I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. l\ 

J [SMITHSONIAN DEPOSIT.] t 

i UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, f 



SERMONS: 



THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 



CHIEFLY PRACTICAL. 



BY 



THE SENIOR MINISTER 



OF THE WEST CHURCH IN BOSTON. 



BOSTON: 
TICKNOR AND FIELDS. 

M DCCC LV. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 
TICKNOll AND FIELDS, 
In the Clerk's Olfice of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



THCRSTON AND TORRY, PRINTERS. 



DEDICATION. 



TO MY CHILDREN, 

Whose love and devotedness have been a source of hap- 
piness and joy to me in my days of health and activity, 
and of solace and comfort in seasons of infirmity, and in 
old age : 

AND 

TO THE PRECIOUS MEMORY OF THEIR SAINTED MOTHER, 

ertjfs Uolume ts ©etitcateti 



TO ELIZABETH CUTTS DUTTON. 

I dedicate this volume also to you. We are the chil- 
dren of the same parents ; grew up from infancy together ; 
have been, through life, except only for a brief period, 
side by side ; without the recollection of one unkind action, 
or word, or thought, towards each other ; and are the last 
survivors of our father's household. 

Nor is this all. You will find in this volume a sermon 
containing the portraiture of a good mother, and will not 
fail to trace in it, — though she was not the prototype, — 
the lineaments of the character of that sainted being, — 



iv 



DEDICATION. 



now a ministering angel to us, — from whom we both 
received our first lessons of piety ; — lessons which she 
so fully and beautifully embodied in her own life and 
example. 

May we be enabled to follow her on the upward path 
which she so faithfully and lovingly traced out for us ; 
and when called to follow the beloved departed, whose 
hallowed memory we fondly cherish, may we be united 
with them in our Father's house above ! 

Your loving and only brother. 

Elmwood, December, 1854. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



This volume has its origin in a request repeatedly made 
to the author that he would republish the sermons he had 
already published, with a selection from his manuscript 
sermons. In order to comply with this request, it was 
determined, Providence permitting, to publish two vol- 
umes, simultaneously, the first volume to contain such of 
the sermons as it was thought best to republish, and the 
second, the sermons which should be selected from manu- 
scripts. 

Circumstances have led to an alteration of this plan. 
The volumes will be published separately, and in a differ- 
ent order from that originally contemplated. 

The state of the author's health has occasioned a delay 
in the publication, and interfered not a little with the pre- 
paratory steps to it. 

The author is compelled to add, with anguish which can 
be understood only by those who knew the object of it, 
that, after the intended publication was announced, a do- 
mestic calamity occurred, — the rupture of a parental and 
filial tie, inexpressibly dear and delightful; — which ren- 
dered the labor of revision for the press almost impossible, 
though it excited a still stronger sense of responsibility, 
and more fervent desire that the labor might not be in vain. 

The sermons in this volume, with the exception of a 
few of a practical character, which had before been pub- 
lished, are selected from the author's manuscripts. 

They are printed almost literally as they were delivered, 



vi 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



except that, in the delivery, the speaker did not always 
feel obliged to confine himself strictly to the notes before 
him. 

They were originally addressed to a people with whom 
the author has been connected as a minister, with uninter- 
rupted confidence and affection, for nearly half a century. 
To them they are now especially sent forth from the 
chamber to which, in the providence of God, — always 
wise and good, — he has been, in a great measure, con- 
fined by illness, for more than three years. This circum- 
stance of their more especial destination, will account for 
the introduction of sermons containing delineations of 
private character and allusions to domestic griefs, as well 
as of others plain, direct, and unelaborated. 

Of their kind reception of them to whom they were 
preached, and to whom they are now especially sent, the 
author is well assured. They will read them, as they 
heard them, with affectionate interest. 

That the reading may be blessed to their benefit, and 
that a blessing which the world cannot give nor take away, 
may be ever with them, is the fervent wish and prayer of 
their most affectionate friend and pastor, 

CHARLES LOWELL. 
West Church, Boston, December, 1854. 



CONTENTS. 



Sermox. Page. 

I. The Good Mother. ... 1 

II. Parental and Filial Duty .... 8 

III. Parental Hopes 16 

IV. Duty to Aged Parents ... 21 



V. Cheerfulness in Youth sanctioned by Re- 
ligion, and should be hallowed by it . 31 
VI. Every Season of Life to be given to God . 37 



VII. The Goodness of God in the Death of 

little Children 42 

VIII. The Dignity of Human Nature ... 50 

IX. Conscience . . . . . . 58 

X. The Upright Man ; a Character 64 

XI. The Faithful Young Man ; a Character . 69 

XII. Christian Heroism 74 

XIII. Prayer ... ..... 82 

XIV. Idolatry among ChpvIStians .... 92 

XV. Religious Conversation .... 98 

XVI. God All-sufficient 106 



viii 



CONTENTS. 



Sermon. Page. 

XVII. The Eye of God always upon us . . Ill 

XVIII. The Devout Spirit always with God . 115 

XIX. David the King and Psalmist of Israel . 122 

XX. The Hidden Life of a Christian . . 128 

XXI. . A Good Man ; a Character . . . 133 

XXII. The Benediction of the Saviour on a Wo- 

man OF JUDEA, AND A TRIBUTE TO WOMAN'S 

worthiness 138 

XXIII. Submission 146 

XXIV. The Divine Dispensations not to be ques- 

tioned, BUT TO BE SUBMITTED TO, AND 

improved 151 

XXV. Lessons to be learned in the House of 

Mourning ...... 164 

XXVI. A Sense of the Presence and Blessing of 

God inconsistent with Fear . . . 172 
XXVII Th y are not alone who feel assured that 

the Father is with them . . . 178 

XXVIII. The Fear of Death 184 

XXIX. There is no Death, nor Sorrow, nor Pain 

in Heaven 192 

XXX. The Resurrection of Christ . . . 197 

XXXI. Regeneration 204 

XXXII. Philip the Evangelist and the Ethiopian 211 

XXXIII. Charge 219 

XXXIV. The Lord's Supper 225 



CONTENTS. 



IX 



Sermon. Page. 
XXXV. The Foundation of evert acceptable Reli- 
gious Service . . . . . . 236 

XXXVI. Thanksgiving 242 

XXXVII. On taking Thought for the Morrow . 253 

XXXVIII. Temperance 261 

XXXIX. Making Haste to be Rich .... 269 

XL. Christian Responsibility .... 277 

XLI. The Christian Spirit 287 

XLII. Extract from a Sermon .... 299 

XLIII. What is needful for the House of God . 302 

XLIV. The Wisdom and Goodness of God, &c. . 319 

XLV. Welcome to a Nation's Benefactor . . 331 
XLVI. Hospitality and Compassion to Emigrant 

Fugitives 336 

XLVII. Jerusalem . 341 

Notes to the Sermon on Jerusalem . . 353 



b 



SERMON I. 



THE GOOD MOTHER. 
Proverbs xxxi. 28. — her, children arise up, and call her blessed. 

The text needs no explanation. It must present 
to every mind the portraiture of a good mother. It 
is only such a mother who would be thus honored 
by her children. It is only such a mother who, in 
life, would receive their grateful homage, and whose 
memorial would be cherished by them among the 
dearest objects of their remembrance. 

There is something, indeed, in the very name of 
mother, which awakens the tenderest associations, 
and must excite in every breast, not corrupted and 
hardened by vice, the liveliest emotions of affection 
and gratitude. It implies, in those who bear it, the 
most exuberant kindness toward those to whom it 
relates ; and is even used in Scripture to present to 
us the highest example our weakness can compre- 
hend, of the Divine compassion. Can a mother 
forget her child? The Lord will not forget thee. 

It is the name of one to whom we owe our 
being; on whom devolves the care of our earliest 
years ; who sustains us in the most, helpless period 

vol* n. 1 



2 



THE GOOD MOTHER. 



of life ; who, with unceasing and untiring assiduity, 
watches and labors for our preservation and com- 
fort; to whom no self-denial is irksome, and no 
exertion toilsome, that can promote our benefit; 
who, in our advancing years, regards us with an 
anxiety and solicitude which has no other name 
than maternal by which it can be expressed; 
whose faithful bosom is the depositary of our early 
joys and sorrows ; who in sickness is found at 
our pillow, wakeful without effort; performing 
such offices of kindness as a mother only could per- 
form ; and in whom, if survived, the love for her 
children is the last earthly passion that warms the 
heart. 

All this is included in the name of mother: 
affection intense; affection undying ; strong in 
life, and strong in death ; labor untiring ; care 
umemitted; anxiety unceasing. All this is asso- 
ciated with that dear and sacred name ; all this 
comes in to swell the tide of affection in the heart 
of a dutiful child — whilst it is enjoying the bless- 
ing of maternal love and care. All this comes in to 
swell the tide of its grief when, on earth, that love 
can be felt, and that care can be exercised no 
longer. 

But this is not all. There may be much more 
than this, to enshrine this name in our hearts, and 
to cause them to thrill with the tenderest emotions 
when it is called up to remembrance. It is the 
name of one to whom, if she is faithful, we owe 
our first impressions of God and duty; who first 



THE GOOD MOTHER. 



3 



teaches our heart to feel its obligations, and our 
tongue to utter them; who watches the opening 
mind, and, as its powers unfold, instils instruction 
in wisdom and virtue, and lays the foundation of 
the future character; who, as we grow in years, 
is still our faithful monitor, judicious counsellor, 
and confidential friend, restraining and guiding us 
by the persuasive energy of her precepts, and the 
silent, but not less impressive eloquence of her life ; 
furnishing, while in the mercy of God she is per- 
mitted to remain with us, a beautiful illustration of 
the efficacy of the principles she inculcates, and the 
hopes she would inspire, and leaving behind her a 
bright and luminous track, which still marks out for 
us the path by which she ascended to heaven. 

It is to such a mother that children look up with 
a veneration and love which may be felt, but can- 
not be described. It is the memory of such a 
mother which is embalmed in the hearts of children, 
not to decay till those hearts are mouldering in the 
dust. I should rather say, never to die, but to live 
with the immortal mind which has received the 
impress of her virtues. 

How dear, how precious, is such a mother to her 
children who are worthy of her ! How doubly pre- 
cious when the parent, who had shared with her in 
their veneration and affection, is gone from them ; 
when she unites in herself all, in this world, that is 
comprehended in the parental relation, and alone 
can receive the offerings of filial piety. How anx- 
ious are they to give her every demonstration of 



4 



THE GOOD MOTHER. 



their sense of her value to them, and of the obliga- 
tion they owe her ! How watchful their solicitude 
to promote her happiness ; to anticipate her wishes ; 
to help her infirmities ; to render cheerful and 
pleasant the evening of her life ! How tenacious are 
they of every look of tenderness, as of beams that 
are soon to be withdrawn. How carefully do they 
gather up her words as treasures that will not long 
be supplied ; watching, as her day declines, to catch 
the last rays of her setting sun. How faithful are 
they to the calls of duty, in the closing scene ; min- 
istering to her weakness, as she has ministered to 
theirs. And when the scene is over, — when the 
bitterness of death is past, how are they cheered in 
the ' solitude of their souls,' by the sounds of pious 
resignation, and humble confidence, and holy joy, 
which seem yet to vibrate on the ear, and will 
never, never cease to vibrate in the heart! 

Blessed is such a mother ! Blessed in life ; bless- 
ed in death ; blessed, forever blessed, in the world 
beyond the grave. Her children arise up, and call 
her blessed. They bless her while she lives to bless. 
They bless her as they receive the last breathings 
of her spirit, which is on the wing for heaven. 
They bless her memory, which is left as a rich in- 
heritance to her children's children. Long after she 
is gone, they look back upon her solicitude and 
fidelity with an interest which the lapse of time has 
not destroyed, — perhaps has not impaired. 

My hearers ! When one so honored, deservedly 
honored by her children, is taken away from among 



THE GOOD MOTHER. 



5 



us, I would gladly delineate the features of her 
character, and thus indulge my own feelings, whilst 
I paid a just tribute to the memory of departed 
worth. I would describe, on such an occasion, the 
qualities which rendered her an object of deep re- 
spect and warm affection, not only to her children, 
but to all who enjoyed her friendship. I would 
describe the mind refined and cultivated ; the coun- 
tenance beaming with sweetness and intelligence ; 
the manners dignified, yet winning ; the conversa- 
tion, interesting to the wise from its wisdom, yet 
most attractive to the young and gay from its viva- 
city and playfulness ; the whole deportment inspir- 
ing happiness in all around her. I would dwell on 
her compassion, and tell of the ignorant whom her 
bounty had contributed to enlighten; the poor, 
whose wants it had supplied; the widows, whose 
hearts it had caused to sing for joy. I would in- 
troduce you to her domestic circle, and speak of her 
order, and economy, and industry. I would carry 
you to the bed of sickness and death, and repeat 
the words of consolation which she addressed to 
her children; and the words of humble, yet firm 
and steady confidence which she addressed to her 
God. I would describe her composure — nay, her 
joy and rapture, in the prospect of being with that 
God in heaven. All this, and more than this, I 
would minutely detail, were I to follow the prompt- 
ing of my own heart ; but to this, on former occa- 
sions, I could only allude ; and to this, now that it 
may be told with so much truth, I must only allude. 
1* 



6 



THE GOOD MOTHER. 



There are hearts which can fill up the sketch, and I 
could not do justice, by any description of mine, to 
the character which is imaged there. 

If the fervent wishes and prayers of children, 
friends, could have availed aught to stay the stroke, 
our friend ' had not died.' To us, indeed, she died. 
But, 

* The dread path once trod, 
Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, 
And bids the pure in heart behold their God.' 

We mourn, that in the retirement of domestic 
life, in the scenes of her labors of benevolence, in 
this place, to which she loved to resort ; we mourn, 
that where we have been accustomed to meet her, 
we shall meet her no more. 

But, as we loved her, we rejoice that she has 
gone to her Father ; to the associates and friends 
of her early life whom it was her lot to survive ; to 
all who have gone before her to heaven. We re- 
joice that she has gone from a world in which there 
is so much pain and sorrow, to a world where ' there 
is no more pain ; and sorrow and sighing flee away.' 

They have been highly favored to whom it was 
permitted to enjoy, in the parental relation, so much 
that was worthy of their reverence and love, and to 
enjoy it so long. They are favored if they have 
known its value, and endeavored to improve it. 
May they still feel its energy exerting a powerful 
influence on their conduct! When the image of 
one so venerated and loved comes up to the mind, 
in health or sickness, in joy or sorrow, in seasons of 



THE GOOD MOTHER. 



7 



retirement, or in seasons of business or pleasure, 
may it chasten, purify, elevate, every thought and 
feeling and purpose and desire. 

If, as I have more than once suggested, and de- 
light to repeat, they who are glorified make a part 
of that c cloud of witnesses ' by which we are com- 
passed about ; if they are permitted to revisit the 
scenes of their former interest and attachments ; if 
they are employed on errands of love and mercy to 
those who were the objects of their solicitude on 
earth ; if they still hover around us, witnessing 
what is good in us, and instruments in the hands 
of Him who worketh by the instrumentality of 
second causes in cherishing every holy purpose, — 
how should we live ! 

My hearers! we are always in the presence of 
God, and the Spirit of God is always striving with 
us. May we live as in this presence, and by the 
assistance of this Spirit, follow on in the footsteps 
of the pious dead, animated by the consciousness 
that we are acting worthy of their memory, and 
that every step brings us nearer to their renewed 
intercourse, and their eternal reward. 



8 



SERMON II. 



PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 

II. Tim. i., part of verse 5. — i call to remembrance the un- 
feigned FAITH THAT IS IN THEE ; WHICH DWELT FIRST IN THY 
GRANDMOTHER AND THY MOTHER, AND I AM PERSUADED IN THEE 
ALSO. 

The disciple to whom Paul addresses these words 
was eminent for his piety. He is frequently men- 
tioned by the apostle in terms of commendation, 
and two epistles are directed to him full of counsel 
and affectionate encouragement. £ From a child he 
had learned the Scriptures,' and was thus the better 
prepared to receive the truths of Christianity. He 
was converted by the instructions of Paul, and was 
his frequent companion in travel and in suffering. 

It was the privilege of this young convert to have 
a pious mother and grandmother. From that source 
he, doubtless, received his early impressions of piety. 
The unfeigned faith that was in him had dwelt 
first in his parents ; and, through the influence of ma- 
ternal counsel and example, had descended to him. 

We are led, then, to reflect, in the first place, on 
the advantage of having pious parents, especially a 
pious mother ; in the second place, on the responsi- 



PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 



9 



bility which rests on children, who are thus favored; 
in the third place, on the obligation which rests on 
parents, especially mothers, to confer this benefit on 
their children. 

1. It is a privilege to have pious parents, espe- 
cially a pious mother. This position will not be 
denied or doubted in this assembly. It is not 
because it is either new or questionable, that I ad- 
vance it ; but to remind you of it, and enforce it, 
and derive instruction from it. 

The relation in which parents stand to their chil- 
dren, gives them an influence which no other relation 
confers. The characters of the children partake more 
or less of the qualities which belong to the characters 
of the parents. The instruction, good or bad, which 
is directly or indirectly conveyed ; the example, bene- 
ficial or injurious, which is exhibited ; never reaches, 
without effect, the eye or the ear of the child. In 
many comparatively trifling particulars, parents con- 
template in their children, in very early life, a por- 
traiture of themselves. They become conscious of 
habits of which they were not before aware, by 
beholding the miniature transcript in these faithful 
copyists. It is so in higher matters ; in the intel- 
lectual and moral habits. Hence the importance 
and value of good instructions, and a good example. 
In both parents it is of vast moment; for, as the 
united effort to give a proper direction must be 
doubly efficacious, so the failure, on either part, will 
tend to counteract the fidelity of the other part. 
But especially is piety important in that parent 



10 



PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 



from whom the child receives its first impressions ; 
who traces the first characters on its ductile mind, 
and gives the first impulse to its onward course. 
Early impressions are proverbially deep. Good 
precepts and good principles, inculcated and in- 
stilled as the mind is first developing its powers, 
are perhaps never wholly lost. They are so many 
lights set up in the mind to direct the conduct 
through the maze of life, and they are seldom, if 
ever, extinguished. The giddiness of youth, the 
blind impulse of unruly passions, may dim their 
lustre, and cause them to burn with a faint and 
flickering flame ; but still the light remains, though 
nearly gone, and something may rekindle it, and 
restore all its purity and lustre. "When the tumult 
and infatuation are over, the mind may be calmed 
by the dictates of reason, and they who have wan- 
dered far ' from the way in which they should go,' 
may return to it, and not depart from it again. 
How many can trace to the faithful, assiduous at- 
tention of a mother, in their early instruction, their 
having been preserved, by the blessing of God, from 
becoming a prey to the temptations which have 
assailed them in the world ! — How many their 
having been led to pursue the path of religious 
wisdom, in which they have found their highest 
happiness ! — How many their return to God and 
duty, when they had gone astray ! — I might say? 
how many have looked back on the early neglect 
of their parents ; or on the bad influence they had 
early exerted, with deep and bitter anguish; if 



PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 



11 



not . But I forbear. They to whom God, in 

his merciful providence, has given good parents ; — 
who have been blessed with the early counsels and 
prayers of a pious mother, cannot feel, with too 
much gratitude, their obligations. And on them I 
remark, in the second place, a great responsibility 
rests. 

2. You who now enjoy the blessing ! — Children ! 
whose parents are diligent in forming you to piety 
and virtue, and in securing you from the corrup- 
tions and miseries of impiety and vice ; whose 
mothers are anxiously sowing, and anxiously water- 
ing the seeds, which, if you are faithful to them and 
yourselves, will, with a divine blessing, bring forth 
the rich fruits of holiness ; let me tell you how 
much you are favored, and how anxious you should 
be to improve under the pious culture you are re- 
ceiving; to learn the lessons of heavenly wisdom 
which are taught you. When your mother is en- 
gaged in the sacred work of instructing you in your 
duty to God and man ; in teaching you to be good, 
that you may be happy ; listen to her instructions, 
think of them, and when you say your prayers, 
pray that you may be all that she is thus laboring 
to make you. The time is precious to you, chil- 
dren, for the season of childhood is fast passing 
away. The time is precious to you, children, for 
the bud may be nipped as it is opening, or may 
open but to die. 

You who have gone out from a parent's guidance, 
and look back upon the precious hours that were 



12 



PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 



given to the counsels of parental love and fidelity, 
how great is your responsibility ! How much have 
you received, and how much should you return in 
gratitude and holy obedience! Amidst the labors, 
and cares, and temptations of life, often recur to this 
period. Call up, again, and again, the lessons you 
have been taught by precept and example ; and let 
them still admonish and guide you. If your parents 
are alive to witness your faithfulness to the obliga- 
tions they had imposed upon you, it will gladden 
their hearts. If they are gone, you will have the 
consciousness, and how delightful will it be to you, 
that you are honoring the memory of those to 
whom you owe so much. 

How interesting to us, my hearers, is the remem- 
brance of those early counsels and prayers, when 
they who offered them are gone from us ! We look 
back with a melancholy satisfaction on their anxie- 
ties for us, when we had no care for ourselves ; on 
their solicitude to protect or to warn us ; on the in- 
struction and discipline by which they endeavored 
to form us for the duties of coming life ; on the 
earnestness with which they spake to us of the 
pleasures and rewards of religion, on the hopes 
they indulged of the progress of our talents, or 
from our good conduct, or success, from our duty 
and affection to them, and our fidelity to God. 

There are no recollections so useful to us as 
these. We should often call them up to our minds. 
They will instruct and admonish us as long as we 
live. Who of us that has had a pious mother does 



PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 



13 



not bless God for it fervently? How sacred are 
the recollections that come up to us with this dear 
object of our earliest love ! 

Has our conduct been worthy of all that has 
been done for us ? Do we still feel its influence, 
and do we labor to revive and strengthen it more 
and more ? — We must answer before God. 

Alas ! What shall we say of those who disregard 
these recollections ; on whom they have no influence 
to guide or restrain them ? If their parents are alive 
to witness their conduct, are they not ashamed to 
meet them ; to converse with them ; to receive favors 
from them? And if they are gone, how little, — 
thoughtless, degenerate, ungrateful children, — how 
little did they anticipate this, when you hung about 
them with your infant arms, answered their fond 
smiles, and lisped out the first broken accents of 
affection! Oh! that you would have compassion 
on them, if they are witnessing your conduct with 
unspeakable anguish ; that you would have regard 
to their memory, if they no longer witness it ; that 
you would have mercy on yourselves ! 

3. In the third place, how great an obligation 
rests on parents to confer on their children the 
advantage of early religious instruction, the benefit 
of pious counsel and example ! 

Do I address a mother who needs to be reminded 
of her duty ? Is there one who now hears me, who 
forgets that she is intrusted with the care of immor- 
tal beings, and that it is for her, by early instruction 
and discipline, to direct and guide their feet in the 

VOL. II. 2 



14 



PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 



path of immortality ? Is there one who hears me 
who is not anxious, above all things, next to her 
own salvation, — and I had hardly said next, — to 
promote the spiritual benefit and eternal welfare of 
her children ? Can such a mother be found ? — When 
' the dead, small and great,' shall appear before the 
throne of God, the mother who has been faithless 
to her charge, the father who has impeded or coun- 
teracted the efforts of a faithful mother, may meet 
their child ; and how dreadful the interview ! May 
we never know ! May God enable us to be faith- 
ful ; that our children may cherish our memory with 
respect and tenderness ; and that we may look for- 
ward with joyful expectation to the day when we 
shall be able to say before the throne of God, ' Be- 
hold, here are we, and here are the children thou 
hast given us ! ' 

Mothers ! would you have your memory precious 
to your children? — would you be embalmed in 
their remembrance ? — would you be associated 
with their best recollections, blended with their 
highest enjoyments of earth, and their surest hopes 
of heaven ? — Be faithful to their instruction in 
piety and virtue. 

Christian mother ! Never despair of the success 
of thy early labors for the spiritual benefit of thy 
child, whilst life remains. They may seem to have 
been fruitless, but the time may come when thou 
shalt reap a rich and joyful harvest. 

On a foreign shore, friendless and solitary, thy 
wandering, erring child may look back to the home 



PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 



15 



of childhood, and hear again the warning voice of 
maternal tenderness ; and the light, thus early im- 
parted, may burst again upon the mental vision, 
and serve as a beacon to conduct him to the haven 
of peace and safety. 

On the bed of sickness and death, when this 
world is passing away, and another world is open- 
ing on the view, the dreadful picture of the recom- 
penses of guilt which thou hast portrayed, and 
the delightful visions of heavenly felicity which 
thou hast gone, perhaps, long before to realize, may 
be permitted, in the mercy of God, to come up 
before the awakened conscience with an overpow- 
ering energy, and thy child be saved. 

Christian mother ! Never despair of the success 
of thy early labors for the. spiritual "benefit of thy 
child whilst life remains ; for though thou shouldst 
never be permitted to reap thy reward in this world, 
thou mayest find in heaven that thou hast not la- 
bored in vain. 



16 



SERMON III. 



PARENTAL HOPES. 
Genesis, v. 29. — this same shall comfort us concerning the 

WORK AND LABOR OF OUR HANDS. 

To know the heart of a parent,to indulge the over- 
flowings of parental tenderness, and to enjoy the re- 
turn of filial affection, is a privilege and a blessing. 
It was a natural, as well as a pathetic appeal, 
c Lord God, what wilt thou give me, seeing I go 
childless ? ' Our image is renewed, and our memo- 
ry embalmed, by our children. They are a part of 
ourselves. If to no one else we are objects of re- 
gard, we fondly believe that our children will care 
for us. The anxiety we feel, the care we exercise, 
the labor we exert, they will not fail to repay. 

If, in the season of infantile helplessness, or heed- 
less childhood, or inexperienced, giddy youth, we 
cherish and protect and warn them ; if, amidst the 
diseases to which their early life is subject, we de- 
prive ourselves of rest and recreation, that, if pos- 
sible, we may secure their comfort, and promote 
their recovery ; if, as they grow in years, we spare 
no expense, and heed no privations, that we may 



PARENTAL HOPES. 



17 



store their minds with knowledge, and fit them for 
respectability and usefulness in the world; if we 
fail not to instil the lessons of piety, and restrain 
not our prayers for the success of our instructions ; 
our children will not, surely, be backward to ac- 
knowledge the claim, or to fulfil the obligations, 
these services impose. They will be our honor and 
our pride ; the means of improvement with which 
we furnish them, they will diligently use ; and if 
our time of sickness, or helplessness, or dependence, 
shall come, they, in their turn, will watch over and 
support, and cherish us. 

Such are the fond expectations that are formed ; 
such the bright visions that are raised by the magic 
wand of hope, in the prospect of the parental rela- 
tion. They are expectations which are frequently 
fulfilled ; they are visions that often prove real. 

But, in the picture of the parental relation there 
is not only light, but shade. How great is the 
solicitude, how unceasing must be the vigilance, 
how keen is often the disappointment of parents ! 

I grant that the son who ' honors his father and 
mother ; ' who cherishes for them, not only the rev- 
erence which he owes them, but the watchful solici- 
tude of undissembled affection ; repays, a thousand- 
fold, their early anxiety for him. I grant still more 
that when filial love is purified by the spirit of 
piety, and the ardor of youth is controlled by the 
faith which overcomes the world; the affection of 
the child goes still deeper into the hearts of the 

2* 



18 



PARENTAL HOPES. 



parents, and has a double effect to cheer the even- 
ing of their days. 

On the other hand, it must be granted that when 
this filial affection and tenderness are wanting, and 
these holy fruits of early cultivation do not thrive, 
it inflicts a pang to which, except in the upbraid- 
ings of a guilty conscience, there is not a parallel. 
The conduct of a vicious child is a source of the 
bitterest anguish which can flow into the heart. 

1 And is this the reward of all our care ? Is this 
the child of so many hopes, of whom we had so 
often said, in the fulness of parental love, " This same 
shall comfort us concerning the work and labor 
of our hands ? " Have all our instructions, admoni- 
tions, prayers ended in this ? It were better we had 
never enjoyed the delight of parental affection, than 
to have been doomed thus to experience the bitter- 
ness of unrequited tenderness and care.' 

It is happy for those parents, with the anguish of 
whose disappointment no feelings of regret and 
compunction for their own negligence, are mingled ; 
who are not compelled to receive themselves a por- 
tion of the condemnation which attaches to the 
conduct of their child. 

We rejoice in the gift of a child; but it is to be 
feared that there are many who do not fully esti- 
mate its importance. We do not receive merely a 
perishable body, which is to be fed and clothed and 
cherished ; but a mind, which is to be cultivated 
and improved ; a soul, which is to be trained up for 
glory. 



PARENTAL HOPES. 



19 



To an unthinking observer, an infant may present 
only the idea of weakness and helplessness ; or, at 
most, the embryo of a future man who is to live, 
and act ; and suffer, enjoy, and die. But to the re- 
flecting mind, — to the mind of the enlightened 
Christian, — it presents an object infinitely more 
important and interesting. It has entered on the 
first stage of an endless existence. It is the future 
heir of heaven or hell. To the parents, under God, 
it may belong to determine its destiny to one or 
the other. A glowing fancy may depict — no, the 
heart of man cannot conceive — the awful responsi- 
bility which rests on those to whom is committed 
the care of these young immortals. 

What parent, then, but must pause, with deep 
and solemn awe, on receiving such a charge, and 
ask, with earnest solicitude, ' What manner of child 
shall this be ? ' ' Who is sufficient for these things ? ' 
' How can I take a charge so responsible ? ' £ How 
shall I perform a duty so arduous, as has now de- 
volved upon me?' — There is a resource in God, 
whose ' grace is sufficient for us, and whose 
strength is made perfect in weakness.' 

Important, indeed, my friends, are early instruction 
and discipline. It was part of the commendation 
given to Abraham, 'the friend of God,' and 'the 
father of the faithful,' that he would ' command his 
children and household after him, to keep the way 
of the Lord, to do justice and judgment.' To Eli 
were imputed those offences of his sons, which, by 
his authority, he might have restrained, or, by the 
seasonable induction of good habits, have prevented. 



20 



PARENTAL HOPES. 



Those of you are to be congratulated who pos- 
sess the consciousness of fidelity, and who are reap- 
ing the reward of that fidelity in the good conduct 
of your children. Or, if your children have escaped 
from the temptations and sorrows of the world, you 
are happy in the thought of their security from evil 
in a world where £ nothing that defileth ' can enter ; 
and in the hope that you may meet them again in 
your Father's house above. 



21 



SERMON IY. 



DUTY TO THE AGED; ESPECIALLY TO AGED PARENTS ; 
COMMITTED TO OUR CARE. 

Leviticus xix. 32. — thou shalt rise up before the hoary 

HEAD, AND HONOR THE FACE OF THE OLD. 

Human life is compared in Scripture to various 
objects in the world of nature; to the natural 
day, which advances from the dawn till noon, and 
then declines, till the sun wholly disappears, and 
darkness covers us. £ I must work the work of 
Him that sent me while it is day,' said the Saviour ; 
' the night cometh when no man can work.' It is 
compared to a 4 flower which blossoms, withers and 
dies.' ' Man cometh forth like a flower, and is cut 
down.' In the text there seems to be an allusion 
to the seasons of the year. Childhood is the spring 
of human life ; youth its summer ; manhood its 
autumn ; and old age its winter. Then, the light is 
feeble, the affections lose their fervor, and time 
begins to snow upon the head. The hoar frost 
spreads and thickens ; the air is cold and piercing ; 
the current of life moves slowly; and death ap- 
proaches to bind it in icy fetters. 

' Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and 
honor the face of the old.' 



22 



DUTY TO THE AGED. 



There is a natural veneration due to declining 
age, which all feel, arising from the very coun- 
tenance of an old man, and from the superior 
wisdom and greater experience he is supposed to 
possess. 

The civilized nations of antiquity paid much 
respect to the aged, and instructed their children 
diligently to cultivate this amiable virtue. The 
men of gray hairs were their counsellors, their arbi- 
trators, their judges, and their leaders. In peace, 
they were the rulers and magistrates of the state. 
In war, they were the generals who commanded 
their armies. 

Even among the savage tribes, the hoary head 
receives singular honor. It is the business of the 
old to instruct and advise ; of the young, to learn 
and to execute. 

It would seem, then, as if there were but little 
occasion in a Christian audience, to enforce the 
injunction in the text. Old age itself, if it be ac- 
companied by a sense of dignity of character, and 
especially if it be ' found in the way of righteous- 
ness,' will command a respectful attention. Under 
these circumstances, we naturally 'rise up before 
the hoary head, and honor the face of the old.' If 
these circumstances do not exist, if this sense of 
dignity of character is voluntarily relinquished, the 
same respectful attention is not due, and cannot 
justly be expected. 

It often happens, however, that it is involuntarily 
lost ; that, in the course of nature, or by the opera- 



DUTY TO THE AGED. 



23 



tion of disease, the powers of the mind, as well as 
the body, become enfeebled, and a second childhood 
takes place. 

Old age now assumes its most humiliating form, 
and appears in all its decrepitude and helplessness. 
Here it is that we are most in danger of neglecting 
the duty enjoined in the text. 

When an object like this is presented to us, in 
which reason has ceased to instruct, imagination 
has lost the power to charm, and memory is almost, 
if not wholly, unable to draw from its stores, there 
is danger that we may forget to ' rise up before the 
hoary head, and honor the face of the old.' 

We have need, then, to be cautioned, — especially 
if the old are committed to our care, — lest we 
should be wanting in that respect and attention, 
which their age and condition require, when they 
are continued for some time beyond the period of 
their usefulness, till they have become a burden to 
themselves, and there is danger of their becoming a 
burden to us. 

Let us remember, in the first place, that it is by 
the appointment of God, and therefore for wise and 
good purposes, that their lives are thus prolonged. 

They may be left as a trial of our virtue, as an 
example of the frailty and imbecility of our nature, 
and to teach us the folly of human pride. They 
may be left to call into exercise our benevolent 
affections; to cherish and invigorate our Christian 
graces, especially our meekness, patience, and for- 
bearance. 



24 



DUTY TO THE AGED. 



They who have arrived at extreme old age are 
often querulous, impatient, and fretful. As reason 
has lost its sway, they are often unreasonable in 
their wishes and demands ; and as the warmth of 
the affections is diminished, and the sensibility of 
the heart impaired, we do not always discover that 
sense of our kindness which, under other circum- 
stances, we might justly expect. 

Here, then, is our trial, and here is one answer at 
least, to the inquiry we might be apt to make, why 
a life, apparently so barren of good, is thus length- 
ened out. It is a trial of our virtue, and a means 
of strengthening and improving it. 

It may be that it is a parent who, in this helpless 
condition, is dependent on our care. Here an op- 
portunity is afforded us of making some return for 
the kindness we have received ; of repaying in some 
measure the debt of gratitude we owe. And what 
child that had the least remains of gratitude or 
goodness, would not delight to pay off this great 
debt of nature, to pursue this round of filial duty, 
in a conscientious discharge of all the good offices 
he owes his aged parents ? What child would not 
regard this retribution as his greatest honor and 
happiness ? 

To our parents, under God, we are indebted for 
our existence ; for our preservation during a state of 
infancy and childhood ; for the means of acquiring 
knowledge ; and probably for the good principles 
we possess, and the good habits to which we have 
been formed. 



DUTY TO THE AGED. 



25 



They cared for us when we were unable to care 
for ourselves. They were instrumental in shielding 
us from harm when we were weak and defenceless ; 
and in supplying our wants, when we were unable 
to express them. When we were grieved, they 
soothed us ; and when we were sick, they provided 
and administered the remedies which, by the bless- 
ing of God, promoted our recovery. How many 
anxious, watchful hours, how many sleepless nights, 
have they had on our account ! They have toiled 
and labored, and denied themselves for our im- 
provement and happiness. 

And when their turn of dependence and weak- 
ness is again arrived, shall not we watch over them, 
and provide for their comfort, and smooth their 
declining path, by every tender and assiduous atten- 
tion ? 

Shall not we sustain those arms, now become 
feeble, which once sustained and defended us? 
Shall not we patiently and perseveringly guide 
their footsteps who were so patient in guiding ours, 
and in teaching us to guide them ? 

Shall not we bear with their infirmities, who have 
so often borne with ours ? or shall we be weary of 
their impatience and fretfulness, who have so often 
experienced impatience and fretfulness from us ? 

Let us go back, my hearers, let us call up to 
mind that we, ourselves, were dependent on them, 
and were feeble and helpless as they are ; and the 
recollection will quicken our diligence and sweeten 
our toil. We shall delight, in this change of cir- 

VOL. II. 3 



26 



DUTY TO THE AGED. 



cumstances, to fulfil our duty, and shall cheerfully 
make the returns of filial piety. 

4 Help thy father in his age,' says the wise son of 
Sirach, 4 and grieve him not so long as he liveth ; 
and if his understanding shall fail, have patience 
with him, and despise him not when thou art in 
thy full strength; for the relieving of thy father 
shall not be forgotten, and, instead of sins, it shall 
be added to build thee up.' 

1 Hearken to thy father who begat thee,' says the 
wisest of men, 4 and despise not thy mother when 
she is old.' 

Despise thy mother ! Is there a son or daughter 
who now hears me, that does not feel a thrill of 
horror at the thought ? 

Despise thy mother! who gave thee birth, to 
whose nurturing care thou owest, under God, thy 
preservation during thy helpless infancy ; who was 
thy faithful monitor and guide and counsellor in 
giddy childhood and inexperienced youth ; who has 
felt for thee an anxiety, and manifested a tender- 
ness which cannot be expressed, and who still feels 
for thee, — old as she may be, if she is alive to one 
feeling of humanity, — a love of which, if thou art 
not a mother, thou canst have no conception. 

Despise thy mother ! Even if she were degraded 
and wicked, — which indeed is not to be supposed, — 
thou must pity and pray for her, but thou must not 
despise her. 

A mother's love, it has been said, is the love of 
God running through those hearts of tenderness. 



DUTY TO THE AGED. 



27 



It is a love which, to a good child, is inestimably 
precious, and will be fondly and fervently returned. 

As an additional motive to the cheerful discharge 
of our duty to the aged who are committed to our 
care, let us remember how important, how essential, 
our attentions are to their comfort and happiness. 

Religion, if they are capable of feeling its conso- 
lations, is indeed their best comforter. Yet even 
religion, though it may lead them to trust in God, 
and to bow with submission to whatever befalls 
them in the course of his providence, cannot wholly 
assuage the grief, or dissipate the anxiety, they 
must feel when they are neglected by those who 
ought to care for them. But they may be unfitted 
for the supports and consolations of religion, and in 
this case, our tenderness, and sympathy, and care, 
not only promote, but constitute, the only enjoyment 
they have. Without them, they must be miserable. 
And shall we withhold them ? — Let us remember 
what they were. They whom we now behold bro- 
ken down by age, and oppressed with infirmities, 
were once as active and vigorous, as wise or wiser, 
as good or better, than we are. 

Let us remember, too, as a further inducement, 
and the last I shall mention, to the faithful dis- 
charge of our duty towards them, that we may be 
in the same helpless condition, and require the same 
attention. 

Let us look forward to the period when our fac- 
ulties shall be blunted, our imagination extin- 
guished, and we ourselves entirely dependent on 



28 



DUTY TO THE AGED. 



others for our support and comfort. As we would 
wish then to be treated, let us conduct towards 
those who, in this sad situation, are intrusted to 
our care. Is it a parent ? Let us watch over him 
with fond solicitude, study his wishes, accommodate 
ourselves to his caprices, bear with his infirmities, 
and render that period tolerable, which, at best, is 
joyless. 

Should we neglect our duty in this respect, we 
may justly expect an awful retribution even in this 
world. We may expect that the example we have 
exhibited to our children will be followed by them, 
and that they, in their turn, will be unmindful of 
obligations which we have not deemed sacred. 

On the contrary, if we perform our duty in this 
respect, we may be assured that we shall not be 
forsaken in a time of old age. Our feeble arms 
will be upheld, and our faltering footsteps will be 
supported as we descend into the grave. 

I congratulate those of you who have aged pa- 
rents, in the opportunity afforded you of discharging 
the sacred and interesting duty that you owe them. 
And I congratulate those of you who, having been 
deprived of aged parents, have the sweet remem- 
brance of fidelity to the claims on filial duty. 

You will reap a rich reward, and it will be pro- 
portioned to the sacrifices you have made, and the 
arduousness of the duties performed. The clouds 
of adversity may gather around you, but they will 
not always remain. A gleam of joy will brighten 
the evening of your days, and spread into all the 
glories of the celestial world. 



DUTY TO THE AGED. 



29 



We have been contemplating in this discourse, 
my hearers, the most comfortless period of human 
life, — the time of extreme old age ; and after the 
view we have given of its helplessness, and of the 
few enjoyments which, under the most favorable 
circumstances, attend it, can it be to any an object 
of desire? 

Let us submit ourselves, without anxiety, to the 
disposal of Him who is wiser than we are. Let us 
faithfully fulfil our duty, and then, whether our heads 
are ever encircled with gray hairs or not, they will 
rest in peace, and be crowned with eternal glory. 

To conclude : 

The intercession we have been led to offer to-day, 
for bereaved children, calls up to remembrance a 
portraiture of old age very different from that which 
is presented by its decrepitude and helplessness. It 
presents to us an aged mother, venerable, dignified, 
and pious, bringing forth, in old age, the fruits of a 
rational and virtuous life ; retaining, amidst infir- 
mities, the mind clear and unclouded, serene and 
cheerful, the affections of the heart warm and una- 
bated, forgetful of self in her solicitude for the 
welfare of others. 

Such an one we now commemorate ; an object of 
reverence and deep interest and affection to her 
children; troublesome only in her anxiety not to 
give trouble ; returning every act of kindness with a 
look and an expression of gratitude, doubly due 
from those who performed it. 

We have seen, too, the devotedness of filial af- 
3* 



30 



DUTY TO THE AGED. 



fection, — children devoting themselves to the care 
of their aged mother, proud of the humblest offices, 
and pleased with the most difficult ; watching her 
wishes, preventing her desires, catching every pre- 
cious opportunity to be grateful with an eager 
solicitude. 

But I may not enlarge as my heart would prompt 
me to do. Thus much I thought it not unsuita- 
ble, but proper, to say, as an example and stimulus 
to other children. 

Such duty, as far as the opportunity and ability to 
perform it exist, is due from ail to their aged parents. 

They are favored to whom this opportunity and 
ability belong; whose parents are spared to old 
age, and thus afford them the privilege of doing 
something towards repaying them in kind the obli- 
gations imposed. 

Pay what you may, children, to your parents, you 
will still be their debtors. Do what you may, you 
will remember when they are gone, that something 
more might have been done for their comfort. If duty 
has been neglected, and regret comes, there will be a 
bitterness in the regret which cannot be described. 
God, in His mercy, grant that it may not be the 
portion of any one of you to know it ! 



31 



SERMON V. 



CHEERFULNESS IN YOUTH SANCTIONED BY RELIGION, 
AND SHOULD BE HALLOWED BY IT. 

Eccles. xi. 9. — rejoice, oh young man, in thy youth, and let 

THY HEART CHEER THEE IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH, BUT KNOW 
THAT .... GOD WILL BRING THEE INTO JUDGMENT. 

I have omitted a part of this verse. The whole 
verse appears to be addressed to heedless, reckless 
young men. 

It begins in a strain of irony, and ends with a 
solemn and awful warning. 

If there are any such young men who now hear 
me, I beg them to read the whole verse ; to ponder 
upon it, and to heed the warning it gives them ; or 
the judgment, denounced against their heedlessness 
and recklessness, will assuredly come upon them, 
and may come unawares. 

The passage, as I have used it, — in the way of 
accommodation, — is a sanction to cheerfulness in 
youth, accompanied by an admonition which may 
serve to chasten and control it. 

A disposition to cheerfulness is a part of our 
original constitution, and is therefore implanted by 



32 



CHEERFULNESS IN YOUTH 



the hand of God. It is innocent and amiable in 
every period of life. It is peculiarly appropriate 
and beautiful in the young. 

Youth is the spring-time, the season of flowers, 
when we expect to find, — and should mourn if we 
missed, — the delightful characteristics of the youth 
of the year. 

It is unnatural, — I had almost said it is mon- 
strous, — when, by the severity of discipline, or the 
severity of system, the buoyancy and vivacity of 
youth are kept down, and impaired, or destroyed. 

They have entered on a new world, with affec- 
tions and passions fresh and ardent. Every thing 
has the charm of novelty, and their youthful spirits 
give a peculiar charm to all the objects around 
them. 

It should be so. It is a beautiful world on which 
their eyes have opened. It is a beautiful world in 
which they are appointed to dwell. They may 
admire it ; they may rejoice, they may be happy 
in it. 

I am not, and never have been, a believer in that 
system which would dress up the gladsome spirit of 
youth in the weeds of sadness, and convert the ac- 
cents, even of early childhood, into mournful regrets 
and lamentations, — if indeed these could be felt 
and indulged, — for the deformed scene on which 
they have entered, and the deformed natures they 
have brought with them. 

It is a system which has never been taught in 
this church, whose hundredth year is not very 



SANCTIONED BY RELIGION. 



33 



distant, and which, I trust, will never be taught 
here. 

Rejoice in thy youth. Rejoice in youth itself, — 
in its elasticity and lightsomeness, its activity and 
vigor, its glowing fancy and unrepressed hope, 
adorning every scene, stretching the view over a 
boundless prospect, and gilding all with sunshine. 
Rejoice in the warmth of its affections ; in its duc- 
tileness ; in the facility with which it gets knowl- 
edge and receives impressions ; in all that is de- 
signed and fitted to make it enjoy and improve the 
scene in which its Creator has placed it. In all 
this rejoice. 

Rejoice in the privileges and blessings which the 
season of youth affords. In its dependence, — if it 
be so, — on parental care, and its consequent free- 
dom from worldly anxiety ; in the opportunities it 
has for getting, as well as the facility, as I have 
said, with which it acquires knowledge ; in its 
sources of happiness, with which experience has 
seldom mingled the bitter waters of disappointment. 
In all this rejoice. 

Rejoice while thou art young. Be as cheerful 
and happy as thy disposition, and the circumstances 
in which thou art placed, incline and enable thee to 
be. A gloomy spirit is not the proper spirit of 
youth. A gloomy countenance does not become 
thy years. Be cheerful while thou mayest. Trou- 
ble will come fast enough without thy seeking. 
Rejoice in thy elasticity and activity, and warmth 
of affection and susceptibility of impressions, while 



34 



CHEERFULNESS IN YOUTH 



thou mayest. Advancing age and coming events 
will soon enough impair them. Rejoice in parental 
care, and in the advantages and enjoyments of 
youth while thou mayest. Soon enough, — alas ! 
too soon, — thou canst rejoice in them no longer. 

Yes, rejoice while thou art young, and let thy 
heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth. The 
days of darkness are coming, and they may be 
many ; the days of watchful, anxious solicitude, for 
thyself and for others ; the days when thy soul shall 
be tortured by suspense, or wrung with the anguish 
of disappointment ; the days, in short, when the 
troubles of life, — to which thou art now almost, 
if not wholly, a stranger, — shall come thick upon 
thee. The days which, — if thy life is spared, and 
all other calamities could be escaped, — must come 
at last, of feeble and weary old age, when the knees 
shall totter with infirmity, and ' fear shall be in the 
way ; ' when the pleasures of life shall please no 
more ; when life itself shall be a burden, and £ desire 
jshall fail.' 

Rejoice, then, while thou mayest, in the freshness 
of youth, in thy health and strength, and freedom 
from anxieties ; but know, — and let it not damp 
thy joy to know, — that £ God will bring thee into 
judgment? 

Rejoice, then, as one who rememberest that thou 
must give an account of the sources and the man- 
ner of thy joy. Let thy rejoicing be such as shall 
not bring thee sadness in reflection, add to the 
weight of the evils that may befall thee in life, and 



SANCTIONED BY RELIGION. 



35 



come over thy soul with the blackness of despair, 
when thou art called to the bar of thy God. 

Let thy rejoicing be sanctified by religion ; reli- 
gion which will purify and elevate thy joy. In the 
season most favorable to the exercise of piety, 
whilst the heart is alive to every generous emotion, 
whilst the marks of thy Maker's goodness beam, 
with such unsullied brightness, from every object 
around thee, let the sentiment of piety take root, 
and grow, and unfold itself. 

' Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy 
youth, while the days come not, nor the years draw 
nigh, when thou shalt say thou hast no pleasure in 
them.' 

Youth, indeed, like the Spring, is a season of 
hopes, but how often are they the hopes of a har- 
vest that shall never be reaped ! Youth is a time of 
health and vigor ; but alas ! how short, how uncer- 
tain is that life and strength ! How soon may they 
be supplanted by disease, or untimely death ! 

Look at that weeping parent. He has lost the 
son, in early youth, on whom his hopes for many 
years were suspended, and whose youthful promise 
was all that a father's heart could desire. ' Being 
perfected,' however, in a short time, ' he fulfilled a 
long time ; ' for honorable age is not that which 
standeth ' in length of time, or that is measured by 
number of years ; but wisdom is the gray hair to 
man, and an unspotted life is old age.' 

Thy days on earth, young man, like his, may be 
few ; but if, like him, thou art virtuous, like his thy 



86 CHEERFULNESS SANCTIONED, ETC. 



memory on earth will be precious, and thy reward 
in heaven immortal. 

1 Remember now, then, thy Creator in the days 
of thy youth.' Now, for thou canst call no day, 
even in early youth, thine own, but the present ; 
and if thou dost not remember thy Creator now, 
thou mayest never be able. 

Time is on the wing. It flies to return no more. 
Seize the moments as they pass, and employ them 
to the best advantage. The time that has gone has 
left a memorial of thy diligence, or thy negligence ; 
— thy faithful remembrance or forgetfulness of 
God. Let the time to come leave behind it a bet- 
ter memorial than the past. Dedicate to God the 
first fruits of thy life, and He will bless thee with a 
fruitful and abundant harvest. 

I repeat, and thus conclude, as I began, my dis- 
course, — ' Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and 
let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth ; 
but remember that God will bring' thee into judg- 
ment. 1 



37 



SERMON VI. 



EVERY SEASON OF LIFE TO BE GIVEN TO GOD. 
Jeremiah viii. 20. — the harvest is past ; the summer is ended j 

AND WE ARE NOT SAVED. 

These words are not nsed in a figurative sense. 
Jeremiah beholds, in prophetic vision, the calamities 
that are coming upon his country. 

In warning his countrymen of the impending 
evils, he reproves them for their sins, and for their 
thoughtless stupidity; which, even the instinct of 
the brute creation, by a beautiful contrast, is made 
to upbraid. 

This leads to further threatenings, conveyed in a 
variety of striking terms. 

Upon which, a chorus of Jews is introduced, ex- 
pressing their terror and alarm at the news of the 
invasion, which is greatly heightened by the pro- 
phet's hearing the sound of the enemies' horses, 
even from Dan; and then beholding the devasta- 
tions made by the invading enemy, whose cruelties, 
God himself declares, no entreaties will soften. 

On this declaration, the prophet bitterly laments 
the fate of 1 the daughter of his people ; ' changing 

VOL. II. 4 



38 



EVERY SEASON OF LIFE 



the scene unawares to the place of her captivity, 
where she is introduced as answering in mournful 
responses to the prophet's dirge. 

In one of these responses, the words of our text 
are included : ' The harvest is past ; the summer is 
ended ; and we are not saved.' 

The daughter of Judea had been anxiously ' look- 
ing for good, but no good came.' The summer 
passed away, the harvest was gathered in ; but she 
was not delivered from her captivity. 

The variety of figures and images used by the 
prophets to diversify the same subject, is admirable. 
Nothing can be found to equal them in the produc- 
tions of uninspired men. You go to works of 
fancy, my hearers, to find glowing descriptions, and 
striking imagery. Your richest storehouse is the 
word of God. 

4 The harvest is past ; the summer is ended ; and 
we are not saved.' 

It is precisely to such a period, as is here de- 
scribed, that, in the course of nature and of Provi- 
dence, we have now arrived. 

We have seen the blossoms of spring unfold, 
and the fruits of summer ripen, and the harvest 
gathered in. But we are not compelled, like the 
prophet, to weep over the desolation of our coun- 
try ; or, like the daughter of Jerusalem, to bewail, in 
the house of bondage, our distance from the land 
of our nativity. 

No. ' The harvest is past ; the summer is ended ; ' 



TO BE GIVEN TO GOD. 



39 



and we are saved ; — from c horrid war,' and wast- 
ing sickness, and every desolating judgment. 

4 The harvest is past ; the summer is ended ; ' and 
we are saved from the stroke of death. 

The goodness of God to us, should lead us to 
convert the words of the text into the means of 
spiritual improvement. 

Human life is a year. It has its spring ; its sum- 
mer ; and its autumn. Its year closes in the cold 
and cheerless winter of death and the grave. 

And if our life is a year, what are the seeds 
which are sown in its spring ; and how plentiful the 
fruit which its summer ripens ; and how rich the 
harvest which its autumn yields ? 

Ye who are in the spring-time of life! Let me 
direct the inquiry to you. 

What provision are you making for the ad- 
vancing seasons ? Are you sowing such seed as 
that when your spring increases into summer, you 
will bear the fruits of knowledge and piety; and 
when autumn comes, reap a harvest of satisfaction 
and comfort ? 

If you waste your youth in idleness ; or if you 
pervert your youth to vice ; or if you spend your 
youth in thoughtless inattention to the duties and 
obligations of religion; there can be no hope that 
you will bear the fruit, or reap the harvest, I have 
now described. 

It is in youth that you are to prepare for matu- 
rity; and it depends on the preparation you now 
make, what the maturity of life shall be. 
4* 



40 



EVERY SEASON OF LIFE 



Seriously reflect on this ; and make such prepara- 
tion as shall render your mature life respectable, and 
old age peaceful and happy. 

But old age may never be yours. Your days 
on earth may be few. They may end with your 
spring-time. Be careful, then, to crowd into your 
span of life as much of duty as possible. Thus 
you will live long in a short time ; and if early 
called away, be transplanted into the paradise of 
God, < where everlasting spring abides, and never- 
withering flowers.' 

Ye who have attained to maturity! How are 
you spending the summer of life? Is it like the 
gay and gaudy insect which flutters for a season, 
and disappears? Or are you weary with toiling 
for that which affords you no real, enduring satis- 
faction ? 

Alas, this season, like that which went before it, 
is fast elapsing. As you labor in your days of 
summer, so will you reap in the autumnal harvest- 
ing. He who sent you forth to labor will soon call 
you to a reckoning, and fearful will that reckoning 
be if you have been unfaithful and negligent. 

But with many the summer is already ended, 
and the harvest will soon be past. "What are the 
fruits you are gathering? Are you reaping the 
rich reward of a well-spent youth, and a maturity 
devoted to God and duty? There remains but a 
little time to you. Whatsoever your hands find to 
do in the work of salvation, they must now, more 
than ever, do it with all their might. Happy are 



TO BE GIVEN TO GOD. 



41 



they to whom 'the hoary head is a crown of glory, 
being found in the way of righteousness.' It is an 
earnest of a far brighter ' crown of glory which shall 
never fade away.' 

The year, which is drawing to a close, reminds 
us all that life is fleeting. The changing seasons 
mark the silent, but sure and steady lapse of time ; 
and it will be wise in us to learn the moral lessons 
they impart. They teach us that our life is spend- 
ing ; for the close of every season, and of every 
year, brings us thus nearer to the end of life. 

Have we yet begun to live for heaven ? Are we 
so living that we have no fear that life should end ? 
Let those who have been negligent, redeem, as far 
as they can, the time they have lost. Let those who 
have not yet chosen whom they will serve, delay 
no longer. Time is flying. Death and eternity are 
close at hand. If we live well, we shall die well. 
And when the brief, transitory summer of life is 
ended, and the harvest is past, we shall be able to 
say, ' We are saved ; the reaping angel has put 
forth his sickle, and we are gathered into the store- 
house of God.' 



4* 



42 



SERMON VII 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE DEATH OF LITTLE 
CHILDREN. 

2 Kings, iv. 26. — is it well with the child ? and she answered, 

IT IS WELL. 

A benevolent mind does not confine its regards 
to itself, but cherishes an interest in the welfare of 
others, and expands in kind feelings and generous 
wishes towards them. From such a heart the ques- 
tion in my text proceeded. It was addressed by 
the prophet Elisha to a Shunamite woman, from 
whom he had received the offices of hospitality and 
kindness in his various journeys, and who had now 
come to him to seek for consolation in her trouble. 
As she approached his dwelling the prophet descried 
her, and in his friendly solicitude for her welfare, 
sent out his servant to inquire about herself and her 
family. ' Is it well with thee ? Is it well with thy 
husband ? Is it well with the child ? ' 

The text contains her reply, — ' It is welV Her 
child was dead. He had gone out to the field to 
his father, in the morning, but soon returned, com- 
plaining of his head ; 1 sat upon her knees till noon,' 
and then died. 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD, ETC. 



43 



It was an only child, and all the earthly hopes of 
its parents respecting it were destroyed. 

The pious Shunamite had not come to the pro- 
phet to utter her complaint. On a former occasion 
she had manifested a spirit of contentment; and 
now her answer to the inquiries of Elisha, respect- 
ing the welfare of her child is, ' It is well. 

From the character of the Shunamite, and from the 
frequent opportunities she had enjoyed of strength- 
ening her feelings of piety by intercourse with the 
prophet, we may suppose that her reply was the 
dictate of a heart which bowed itself in humble 
resignation to the will of God. Her language, — 
at least as it may be adapted to our instruction, — 
may be thus interpreted: It is well, because God 
has done it. It is well for me, for there are many 
useful lessons it has a tendency to teach me. It is 
well for the child, because God has taken it to him- 
self. 

These are powerful reasons to the understanding. 
May they tend, by the blessing of God, to soothe 
the hearts of those who are in like circumstances 
with the woman of Shunem. Partaking of the 
sufferings, you partake, I trust, my afflicted friends, 
of the spirit of this pious woman; and, like her, 
can say, ' It is welV 

1. It is well, because God has done it. 

' The Lord reign eth.' ' His kingdom ruleth over 
all.' Nothing cometh to pass, nothing can come to 
pass, without His permission. ' Not a sparrow 
falleth to the ground' unnoticed by Him. We 



44 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE 



hear of accident, and chance, and fortune ; but 
they are mere words ; they have no meaning ; or, if 
they mean any thing, they are only names for the 
unknown and inscrutable operations of the provi- 
dence of God. 

Now this Providence is wise and merciful in its 
operations ; infinitely wise and infinitely merciful. 
Look around you. Do you not behold every where 
the clearest and fullest demonstrations of the Di- 
vine wisdom and goodness ? Are they not written 
every where, in the brightest characters, as with a 
sunbeam ? Contemplate your own condition, and 
acknowledge, with grateful emotions, how much 
the sum of your blessings exceeds the amount of 
your afflictions. 

If you every where discover, and in circumstances 
innumerable, experience, the kindness, beneficence, 
and compassion of God ; if there are every where 
the clearest indications of His regard for the wel- 
fare, and his attention to the happiness, of His 
creatures, will you not believe that in the evils of 
life there is a kind and beneficent design? Is it 
reasonable to suppose that a Being so good would 
wantonly inflict pain; or that a Being so wise 
would ignorantly inflict it ? Does not a father 
chasten his children whom he loves ; and is not 
the chastisement of God, who is more tender than 
the tenderest earthly father, a proof of His paternal 
tenderness and affection ? 

Yes, God is wise and good ; infinitely wise and 
infinitely good. Every thing which He orders, there- 



DEATH OF LITTLE CHILDREN. 



45 



fore, must be wise and good, wisest and best ; and 
it is the language of reason as well as of piety, 
It is well because God has done it. 

2. It is well, because of the useful lessons it has 
a tendency to teach. It teaches us the vanity and 
instability of these blessings. 

"What parent is there who is able to confine, 
within the exact limits of propriety and duty, the 
affection he feels for his children? Who can say 
to the tide of natural affection, as it flows out to- 
wards the objects of its care, its solicitude, its labor, 
its hope, 4 Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther ' ? 
Who can exactly regulate the workings of parent- 
al love, and fix with precisely the just degree of 
tension the cord which binds a child to a parent's 
heart ? What parent is there who always remem- 
bers, what parent who ever realizes, how tender 
and fragile a plant is committed to his fostering 
care ? Yes, there is a time when, and when only, 
he realizes it. It is when God, with an inexorable 
hand, — still it is a Parent's hand, — roots out the 
tender plant, and withers the bud in which the 
colors were beginning to glow. Then indeed, in- 
deed, it is realized. There may have been indica- 
tions of its fragility. A parent's heart may have 
had its forebodings, but not till now has that heart 
truly felt how tender and fragile it was. 

Vain, delusive, transitory joys ! Direct your eyes, 
my friends, to another and better state. From these 
4 broken cisterns ' turn to the 4 Fountain of living 
waters ; ' from these transient, vanishing meteors, to 



46 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE 



the < Father of lights.' Fix your affections where 
they cannot be too strongly fixed, i on things above,' 
and not with too much strength and ardor on things 
below. On things above. — It is there that you may 
find again, and love with a purer and stronger affec- 
tion than ever, those who are more worthy than 
ever of your love. 

For, 3dly, — It is well for the child, for God has 
taken it to himself. 

There is sure ground of hope concerning young 
children. Of infants, Jesus said ' Suffer the little 
children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for 
of such is the kingdom of God.' And those who 
have advanced a little farther on the journey of life, 
and who, by their sweetness of disposition; sim- 
plicity and guilelessness ; lively sense of obligations 
conferred ; tenderness of conscience in regard to any 
thing that might be displeasing to God ; have ber 
come the objects of our fondest love, are objects, 
also, of love to the compassionate Saviour, and 
assuredly have a place with those of whom he said, 
' Of such is the kingdom of. God.' 

Fear not, Christian mourners, your children are 
not lost. If you are living as you ought to live, 
they are not lost to you. The cord that bound you 
to them is not broken. It is lengthened out. It 
extends from earth to heaven ; forms a new bond 
of connection with a better world ; and should draw 
you upward. By faith you may mingle your spirits 
with theirs ; by faith you may overpass the bounds 
of mortality, and be with them even while you are 



DEATH OF LITTLE CHILDREN. 



47 



here. You may love them as you have always 
loved them, and they are more worthy of your 
affection than ever, for they are purified from mor- 
tality. They are safe, — safe with their God; treas- 
ures 4 laid up in heaven.' 

He who made them has had mercy on them. He 
has taken them from much evil to come ; more, far 
more, it may be, than you can imagine. He has 
taken them to great good ; to a felicity which the 
human heart cannot conceive. In heaven there is 
' fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore.' How 
much is contained in this short sentence ! It com- 
prehends all that is included in the idea of perfect 
happiness, — fulness and perpetuity. On earth our 
joy is never full ; there is always some want, some 
vacuity. On earth our happiness is never secure ; 
there is always a dread of losing it. In heaven 
the joy is ' full and everlasting.' 

The Saviour has said of little children, that ' their 
angels do always behold the face of the Father.' 
He here adopts an Eastern phrase, which is used in 
reference to those who have the nearest place to the 
sovereign. They are said to ' see his face.' And 
the angels of little children are admitted, — if I may 
say so, — into the inner circle, nearest to the Sove- 
reign of all, — the Source of life, and light, and 
blessedness. They do ' always behold the face of 
the Father.' 

You call to remembrance the little history of 
their lives. Many passages by others unheeded, 
were marked and are remembered by you ; and all 



48 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE 



that was 4 good towards the Lord ' is /ull of com- 
fort to you. It is an anchor of hope to you, and 
you may lean on it. Whatever was marked and is 
remembered by you, was marked and is remem- 
bered by God. He who had begun a good work 
in them, can and will perfect it. 

Admitted to a higher sphere, they are adorned 
with nobler faculties. Can you wish that these 
young inhabitants of heaven should be degraded 
to earth? Would you call them back from the 
sphere of such exalted services ? Will you sorrow 
for that, which to them is an unmingled source of 
joy? Will you utter lamentations for that, for 
which they are lifting up their fervent thanksgiv- 
ings ? 

£ If God be pleased,' said a good man, 1 and his 
glorified creature be pleased, what are we that we 
should be displeased?' No, rather rejoice in their 
joy, and whilst your thoughts go out in search of 
them, let your affections also go forth, and centre 
where they are. 

How much more intimate and endearing have 
your relations with heaven become in consequence 
of their translation thither! How greatly is your 
interest, too, in that better country increased! 

Whilst they were with you, they were among 
your strongest ties to the world. They were your 
companions, your comfort and hope, in this house 
of your pilgrimage. 

The comforts of a pilgrim are transient, but if 
you follow them with devout affection, and ascend 



DEATH OF LITTLE CHILDREN. 



49 



by faith to the world of spirits, they will still be 
your companions, and comfort, and hope, in this 
house of your pilgrimage. 

With what interest must we all think of heaven, 
where so many who are dear to us, have already 
entered ! That which constituted our greatest fe- 
licity on earth contributes to make us most willing 
to depart. We are strangers in a foreign land. The 
hour of our departure rises on the soul. Before us 
is a country peopled with our kindred. Our parents, 
our children, the friends of our bosom, are there. 
Thither, by the grace of God, and the mediation of 
Jesus Christ, may we follow them ! 



VOL. II. 



5 



50 



SERMON VIII. 



THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, AND ITS CONSEQUENT 
OBLIGATIONS. 

1 John, iii. 2. — now are we the sons of god, and it doth not 

YET APPEAR WHAT WE SHALL BE. 

We cannot fail to perceive in the world around 
us, we cannot fail to perceive in our own hearts, a 
love of distinction ; a desire to elevate ourselves, — 
in some way or other, — above our fellow-beings. 

It is apparent in the eager pursuit of worldly 
honors, from the highest to the lowest; and of 
worldly wealth. 

It is apparent in all professions and occupations, 
and in every grade of society. No distinction is so 
high that ambition will not aspire after it. None 
so low that vanity will not seek it. 

And to what vice and folly does it not often 
prompt ! What wicked and degrading passions, 
however opposite and conflicting, does it not call 
into exercise ; to what wicked and degrading prac- 
tices does it not lead ! What pride and haughtiness, 
what baseness and servility, what strife and hatred, 
what falsehood and slander ! It has broken the ties 
of friendship. It has destroyed the peace of families. 



THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, ETC. 51 

It has rent a nation by divisions. It has deluged 
the world with blood. 

And yet I come not here to condemn a principle 
which is inherent in the nature God has given us. 
I would lead you to direct it to better objects than 
any to which worldly ambition can aspire. Turn- 
ing away, in this season of sacred rest, from the 
passing distinctions of this passing world, I would 
dwell on that permanent distinction which God 
has stamped upon the soul; and on the duties and 
obligations it involves. 

There is no worldly distinction, my hearers, no 
place of honor, however exalted, that will raise you 
so high as the one that is your birthright. You 
may impair that distinction, by seeking ' the honor 
that cometh from men,' but no worldly distinction 
can raise you so high as the honor that has already 
come to you from God. 

The poorest and humblest person who now hears 
me, is possessed of an inherent dignity which raises 
him far above all the objects, however magnificent, 
which the world can afford ; for he has within him 
a soul which God has made in his own image, and 
which is capable of advancing, forever, from per- 
fection to perfection, from glory to glory. 

' We are the sons of God.' We are the children 
of Him by whom kings reign. The Almighty 
Ruler of the universe is our Maker ; and this Al- 
mighty Ruler permits us to call Him our Father. 

I might well say that no worldly distinction could 
compare with this. And is it not wonderful that, 



52 THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, 

in the pursuit of inferior distinctions, and often of 
those which are most frivolous and chimerical, we 
can ever lose sight of this intrinsic dignity ? How 
is it that we do not esteem it above every other, 
and direct our chief attention to preserve and im- 
prove it ? 

We are the sons of God ; of the first and greatest 
of Beings. "What noble and elevated sentiments 
should fill our minds ! How should we rise above 
every thing that is low and worthless, to what is 
dignified and elevating ! 

With what diligence should we cultivate that 
understanding in which consists our affinity to God, 
and in the cultivation of which we approach nearer 
in our resemblance to Him ! 

Shall that mind be allowed to lie waste and 
barren, which is an emanation from the Supreme 
Intelligence ? Shall that mind be engaged in low 
and worthless pursuits, which is designed for the 
attainment of the most important knowledge, and 
is capable of endless progression and improvement ? 

Shall the paltry, insignificant, miserable pursuit 
of power, or of gain, absorb those faculties which 
can soar to heaven, and grasp eternity ? 

Renouncing our true greatness and happiness, 
shall we pursue a greatness and happiness preca- 
rious and unsatisfying, whose foundation is in the 
dust ? Disregarding substantial realities, shall we 
grasp at phantoms, pursue a shadow ? 

If the soul must be confined to this prison of 
clay ; if its relation to material things demands an 



AND ITS CONSEQUENT OBLIGATIONS. 53 



attention to them ; shall it not be mindful that it is 
itself immaterial, and sometimes escape to breathe 
its native air, and dwell in its own element ? 

Shall place and office, barter and exchange, news 
and politics, tattling and gossiping, be the con- 
stant burden of its thoughts and its discourse ? 
Formed for eternity, shall it think only and speak 
only of time ? Formed for heaven, shall it live only 
for earth ? 

Children of the Most High ! Do you forget your 
exalted origin ? Immortal beings ! Do you disre- 
gard your immortal destiny ? 

We are the sons of God, — of the purest and best 
of Beings. How pure and holy should be the affec- 
tions which animate our own breasts ! How should 
we soar above every thing that is degrading and 
corrupt, to what is ennobling and refined ! How 
carefully should we regulate those passions which 
are intended to improve us in the image of God, to 
qualify us for the enjoyment of virtue and happi- 
ness here, and of its rewards hereafter ; which are 
capable of the highest elevation and refinement, and 
of the lowest debasement and corruption ! 

Shall that soul be allowed to become tainted and 
corrupted, which was formed in the image of Infi- 
nite Purity ? Shall that soul be engaged in vicious 
pursuits, which was designed for the attainment of 
holy affections, and which is capable of infinite and 
unending advancement in holiness ? 

If it must inhabit a tenement which is of the 
earth, earthy, shall it not be mindful that it is itself 
5* 



54 



THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, 



from heaven ; and hold pure and elevated commu- 
nion with the Father of spirits ?, 

Shall it forget that He who, in a peculiar sense, 
was the Son of God, once dwelt in flesh, and was 
subject to the infirmities and temptations of human 
nature, yet ' knew no sin ; ' and shall it not sedu- 
lously copy his pure and spotless example? 

We are the sons of God. How much should we 
love God, our Creator, Preserver, and constant, un- 
wearied Benefactor ; who discovers his paternal 
relation to us by unceasing care, and the most sub- 
stantial benefits ? How greatly should we honor 
Him ! How devoutly should we trust in Him ! How 
cheerfully should we submit to Hum ! How dili- 
gently should we serve Him ! 

How should we labor to promote the benefit and 
happiness of those, however humble, who, like our- 
selves, bear His image, are His children, and equally 
the objects of His care and kindness ! 

The distinctions of earth will soon disappear ; 
and none remain but that of those who have been 
improving in the Divine likeness, and those who 
have debased their native dignity, and obscured the 
image of God in their souls. 

We are the sons of God. Such is our station 
and dignity by nature. It becomes us to ask our- 
selves, — for it is to this especially that the apostle 
refers in the text, — Is it our station and dignity by 
grace ? Have we been ' created anew in Christ 
Jesus ? ' Have we the spirit and temper which will 
secure us at last an acknowledgment by Him with 



AND ITS CONSEQUENT OBLIGATIONS. 55 

whom nothing that is unholy can dwell ; and who 
will say to the workers of iniquity, ' I know you 
not?' 

Children of God ! Heirs of immortality ! Reflect, 
I beseech you, on the exalted station for which you 
are born, and act as becomes it. Reflect on the 
felicity for which you were designed, and earnestly 
and unwaveringly pursue it. 

Strive more and more to be animated by a sense 
of your real dignity and true happiness. Indulge 
and cherish and display a noble ambition to render 
yourselves, by the grace of God, more worthy of all 
that God has done for you in giving you intellec- 
tual, immortal minds, and providing for you the 
means of their improvement and salvation. Labor 
more and more, to ' walk worthy of your high and 
holy calling,' as men and as Christians. 

Having received not only immortal natures, but 
also high and precious promises, ' purify yourselves 
from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, and perfect 
holiness in the fear of God.' 

' Now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet 
appear what we shall be.' 
It doth not yet appear. 

It is natural that we should send forth our inqui- 
ries into the world where we must shortly dwell ; 
that we should pass, on the wings of imagination, 
that boundary which the disembodied spirit must 
soon pass in reality ; and speculate on the nature 
of those scenes in which we soon must mingle. 



56 THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, 



Feeling in ourselves, and taught by revelation, 
that we are born for another destiny than that which 
earth discloses to us, it is natural that we should 
seek to learn it before we go to realize it. 

Bereft of many with whom our souls were linked 
in bonds of the closest affection, it is natural, — nay, 
it is unavoidable, — that our thoughts should go 
after them, search out the place of their residence, 
and contemplate their employments; and, if they 
are found in heaven, join in their ascriptions of 
thanksgiving, and partake of their joy. 

All this is natural, it is innocent. It may be 
beneficial to us. 

But how little can we know ! "We know not 
what they are, and it doth not yet appear what we 
shall be. 

Of this, however, we may be assured, that ' they 
who by patient continuance in well-doing seek for 
glory, honor and immortality, shall have eternal 
life.' 

But what is eternal life ? They shall 1 enter into 
rest.' But what is this rest ? They shall have 
' fulness of joy.' But what is the nature of that 
joy of which they shall partake? 

' Here we know but in part.' ' We see through 
a glass darkly.' A veil which no mortal has been 
able to lift, conceals from us the world of spiritual 
intelligences into which the souls of the departed 
enter when death has stripped them of their mortal 
covering. 

We may indulge curiosity, but it is in vain. We 



AND ITS CONSEQUENT OBLIGATIONS. 57 

may give the wings to our imaginations ; but, after 
all its rovings, it will return to us void, having 
found no certain resting-place. 

Faith may ascend, in the light of revelation, but 
the time has not come when ' it is lost in vision.' 

The time has not yet come. My hearers, it is 
hastening on. It is urging forward its flight. The 
shadows that now surround us are fast passing 
away. For us the inexorable doors will soon be 
unfolded. A^e must enter that prison-house, and 
learn its secrets. 

This spirit, now confined and weighed down to 
earth, will soon be dislodged. ' Dust will return to 
dust.' Corruption will lay hold on that which be- 
longs to it. 

But the immortal spirit, which tenanted it, will 
pass through death to ' its own border.' We shall 
then know 

Omniscient Being ! What shall we know ? 

In infinite mercy, prepare us for that hour ! Give 
us a heart to love Thee. Give us grace to serve 
Thee ; that, when our faith is knowledge, we may 
know that we are blest ! 



58 



SERMON IX. 



CONSCIENCE. 

Romans xiv. 13. — let us not judge one another any more, but 

JUDGE THIS RATHER, THAT NO MAN PUT A STUMBLING-BLOCK, OR AN 

OCCASION TO FALL, IN HIS BROTHER'S WAY. HAST THOU FAITH ? 

HAVE IT TO THYSELF BEFORE GOD. 
HE THAT ESTEEMETH ANY THING UNCLEAN, TO HIM IT IS UNCLEAN. 

HE THAT DOUBTETH IS CONDEMNED IF HE EAT. 
HAPPY IS HE "WHO CONDEMNETH NOT HIMSELF IN THAT THING WHICH 

HE ALLOWETH. 

I have taken these words from the fourteenth 
chapter of the Epistle of Paul to the Romans, though 
not in the order in which they were written by him. 

I request you to read the whole chapter atten- 
tively and seriously, in your retirement. 

It has special reference to a case of conscience, 
which had occupied the attention, and excited the 
scruples and animadversions, of some of his Chris- 
tian converts. 

In discoursing from them at this time, I shall 
separate them from the occasion and circumstances 
with which they are especially connected, and con- 
sider them as containing a moral lesson for myself 
and for you. 

We have, in the text and context, a practical rule, 



CONSCIENCE. 



59 



applicable alike to our personal conduct, and to our 
treatment of others. 

If our brother £ esteemeth any thing to be un- 
clean ; ' if to him, to act, or to refrain from acting, 
appears to be criminal; we must not judge and con- 
demn him because we think differently. He may 
be right, and we may be wrong ; and if he is in an 
error, he follows the dictates of his judgment and 
conscience, whose dictates he is bound to obey. 

We may do what we are able to enlighten him, 
but we must do nothing to persuade him to violate 
the admonitions of his conscience. So, on the other 
hand, in regard to our own conduct. Whilst we re- 
frain from censuring our neighbor for following the 
guidance of conscience in doing what we may be 
disposed to condemn, or not doing what we deem 
innocent, we should be careful to regard the warn- 
ings of this internal monitor ourselves. We must 
do nothing that we believe to be wrong, though all 
the world should unite to do it. 

The rule to us, as well as to our neighbor, is, 
' He that esteemeth any thing to be unclean, to him 
it is unclean.' 

Those whom we respect and love, and who are 
worthy of our respect and affection, may have no 
scruples in this particular instance. They may use 
arguments to convince us that our scruples are 
groundless ; but whilst there is a lurking suspicion 
even, of its sinfulness, we must not accompany them 
a single step ; for ' he that doubteth is condemned if 
he eat.' What may not be criminal in those who 



60 



CONSCIENCE. 



have no conscientious scruples, would be criminal 
in us who have. 

We stand or fall, not to our fellow-creatures, but 
to God ; and we must take care that, in all things, 
we can approve ourselves to God, who knoweth 
and judgeth the heart. It will be much better for 
us to deny ourselves what is innocent, though it 
might afford us gratification, than to act in opposi- 
tion to our sense of right. 

Afford us gratification ! No, my friends, be as- 
sured that nothing can afford you real pleasure, 
which you believe or suspect to be wrong. 

It is only in the consciousness of uprightness that 
you can enjoy happiness. An upbraiding conscience 
is a source of perpetual torment. 4 An approving 
conscience is a continual feast.' 

Nor is it only in refraining from acting, that we 
are to heed the admonitions of this faithful moni- 
tor. What an enlightened conscience, — I mean a 
conscience enlightened by reflection, by serious ex- 
amination and inquiry, and by the word of God 
and prayer, — prompts us to do, we must not neg- 
lect. We must obey its impulses to act, as well 
as its warnings to refrain from acting. 

And here, in the eye of God, we stand alone. 
We are to be judged by our own conduct ; not by 
the conduct of others. 

Our neighbor, our friend, may have doubts ; but 
if the path of duty is plain to us, we must follow it. 

However wise or good, in our estimation, may be 
those who differ from us, their scruples, — though 



CONSCIENCE. 



61 



they should make us hesitate, and inquire, and 
seek for light from above, — should not control our 
conduct, unless these scruples become our own. 

They who indulge them may be wise and good ; 
but in this respect they may be less enlightened 
than ourselves. The prejudices of education, and 
a thousand circumstances, may blind their judg- 
ment, and prevent them from seeing, as clearly as 
we do, the path of duty. 

There is a sense, however, in which we should 
regard the scruples of others, and be influenced by 
them. In things indifferent, we should not do what 
would ' give offence,' or ' place a stumbling-block ' 
in the way of another. It is better for us that we 
should deny ourselves what is innocent, and what, 
in ordinary circumstances, we might do without the 
reproach of our own minds, if it grieve, or offend, 
or injure, another. 

Such is the lesson which the apostle gives us in 
the admirable chapter from which my text is taken ; 
a lesson which he taught most forcibly in his own 
example. 

I infer from my subject, in the first place, an 
admonition to parents. 

Whilst they do what they can to inform the 
minds of their children ; to teach them the word 
and will of God ; and to imbue them with a sense 
of their responsibility ; let them teach their chil- 
dren, by precept and example, to listen to the lowest 
whisper of conscience, and never, on any occasion, 
to violate its dictates. 

VOL. II. 6 



62 



CONSCIENCE. 



Let them, at the same time, be careful not to 
brand with the stamp of guilt, what is not criminal. 
Let them not write ' unhallowed,' 1 unclean,' upon 
every innocent recreation in which the gay spirit of 
youth may prompt them to engage. 

By so doing, they tempt their children to sin; 
by tempting them to disobedience, to artful pre- 
tences, that they may do, what they cannot now 
do, — when it is forbidden, — without criminality, 
but what they might otherwise have done with 
perfect innocence. 

Yes, might have done to the glory of God ; for, if 
we teach our children to glorify God for the recre- 
ations, the innocent enjoyments of life, we convert 
these recreations into the means of spiritual im- 
provement ; we teach them to love that kind Parent, 
who has opened to them so many sources of enjoy- 
ment ; who has planted these flowers along the 
path of life, and allows them, if it is done with 
moderation and gratitude, to gather and enjoy 
them. 

I infer, from this subject, in the second place, an 
admonition to children and youth. May the lesson 
of instruction I have now given, be deeply im- 
pressed upon their minds ! 

You have heard, my young friends, and you 
cannot but feel, that there is a monitor within you, 
which, if not perverted by repeated neglect of its 
admonitions, will not fail to reproach you when 
you do wrong. 

You have also heard that they are happy who 



CONSCIENCE. 



63 



condemn not themselves in that thing which they 
allow. Be careful to do nothing that your con- 
science tells you not to do, and this happiness will 
be yours. 

Hearer of whatever age! Be ever attentive to 
the feeblest whisper of thy conscience. It is the 
voice of the Spirit of God. 

Does it say to thee, ' Forsake the evil, and live ' ? 
i This is the way, walk ye in it ! ' Slight not the 
warning ! Turn not away from the directing voice, 
or it will cease to admonish and guide thee. 



64 



SERMON X. 



THE UPRIGHT MAN. 

A CHARACTER.* 

[Concluding part of a Sermon.] 

Job XXvii. 5. — TILL I DIE, I WILL NOT REMOVE MY INTEGRITY 
FROM ME. 

The exhibition of integrity which I have given 
you in this discourse, is not an ideal character. In 
its most prominent features, we often meet with it 
in real life. As it exists in the world, we pay it the 
homage of our respect and confidence. When it 
passes away, it is the subject of mournful, indeed, 
yet pleasant and useful recollection. 

Such an one, — a man of tried integrity, — whom 
none could distrust, and in whom all men placed 
confidence, has just been taken from the midst of 
us, and you will not be surprised that my heart 
prompts me to pay him a brief tribute of affection- 
ate respect. For more than sixty-four years he has 
been connected with this society ; and for thirty- 
seven years, without the slightest interruption of 
kind feelings, I have enjoyed his friendship. I 

* Thomas Dennie, Esq. 



THE UPRIGHT MAN. 



65 



loved and honored him, and he was worthy of 
love and honor ; — an Israelite indeed, in whom 
there was no guile. 

We have seen him, through a long life, perform- 
ing his duties with conscientious but unostentatious 
fidelity ; valuing, as he ought to value, the good 
opinion of others, but most anxious that his own 
heart should not reproach him so long- as he lived. 

Losing his father a little before he reached his 
majority, he was cast, under Providence, upon his 
own resources ; and was found equal to the respon- 
sibility. 

Accompanying a small bequest from his father, 
was this testimony, — inestimably precious, more 
precious than the bequest of an ample fortune, — 
that he had never displeased him. Through life it 
was held by him among his dearest and most cher- 
ished remembrances. 

And let me say, in passing, to the young, that 
such remembrances, if they think rightly, will be 
among their most cherished recollections when their 
parents can no longer be the objects of filial duty. 
As there will be nothing more bitter to you, my 
young friends, than the remembrance of any thing 
you have done to displease them, so there will be 
no sweeter satisfaction than the memory of any 
thing you have done to make them happy. 

At an early age, I may be permitted to mention, 
— and no good son of a good mother will wonder 
at my mentioning it, — our lamented friend formed 
a connection which contributed essentially to his 
6* 



66 



THE UPRIGHT MAN. 



prosperity, as well as happiness. ' The heart of her 
husband did safely trust in her,' and ' her children 
rose up and called her blessed.' Her good sense, 
and prudence, and judicious economy, came in aid 
of his own intelligence and persevering diligence, 
in enabling him to attain to independence, but 
could not prevent the access of misfortune. He 
failed in business, and having paid all he could pay, 
received an honorable discharge. 

But this happens every day, and if this were all 
I had to tell, I should be silent on this subject. 
There is something more ; something which, from 
the honor it has reflected on his character, I fear is 
of comparatively rare occurrence. On again ac- 
quiring property, — notwithstanding the release he 
had obtained from every pecuniary obligation, — 
calling his creditors together, he paid them their 
own with interest ; leaving himself and family a 
bare subsistence. Providence smiled on his renew- 
ed efforts, and they were crowned with success. 

Late in life he became a communicant. His self- 
diffidence, and not any doubt of the obligation of 
this ordinance, having led him to defer it. It was, 
perhaps, in part, too, the consciousness of an infirm- 
ity, — a hastiness of temper, — which, however, is 
often accompanied, and, in his case, was most cer- 
tainly accompanied by the kindest affections and by 
a noble and generous spirit. And yet, where can 
we better go to learn a lesson of meekness, gentle- 
ness, forbearance, than to the Lord's table, — to the 



THE UPRIGHT MAN. 



67 



commemoration of Him, who, 'when he was re- 
viled, reviled not again, when he was persecuted, 
threatened not, but committed himself to Him who 
judgeth righteously ? ' His last sickness was a 
beautiful exhibition of the efficacy of religion in 
affording support when it is most needed. His 
trust was in the mercy of God through the media- 
tion of Jesus Christ. He was entirely submissive. 
His heart was full of gratitude to God, and of kind- 
ness and love. Many little incidents might be told, 
indicative of this. They are treasured up in the 
memories and hearts of those who most loved him, 
and who were permitted to manifest their filial 
piety by watching at his bedside. It is due to them 
to say that he often spoke of the affectionate atten- 
tions of his children, and of their children. 

4 A good man leaveth an inheritance to his chil- 
dren's children ; ' — the inheritance of a good name 
and a good example. It is well if they regard it as 
their best legacy. It is well when they aim to act 
worthily of it. When they do so, the memory of 
his virtues comes up to cheer them in the path of 
duty. When they do not, it comes up to rebuke 
them, and may the admonition never be in vain. 

And now, ' the places which have known ' this 
honored and honorable man, ' shall know him no 
more.' We shall no more behold that venerable 
form where we have been accustomed to see it, on 
the morning and evening of the Christian Sabbath, 
in the place from which he was never, but from 



68 THE UPRIGHT MAN. 

necessity, absent. Never more shall we mingle our 
prayers and praises with his in this house of our 
solemnities which he loved so well. May we meet 
in the upper temple, and unite our voices in notes 
of praise that shall be lengthened out throughout 
eternity ! 



69 



SERMON XI. 



THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 

A CHARACTER * 
[Concluding part of a Sermon.] 

Kev. ii. 10. — be faithful unto death, and thou shalt receive 

A CROWN OF LIFE. 

I cannot allow myself to close my discourse, 
without dwelling for a little time on the character 
of that excellent young man who has just been 
taken from among us. 

I owe it to myself to do this ; for I loved and 
valued him; I owe it to you, and especially the 
youth of this society, who, by the contemplation of 
his character, may be excited to resolve, by the grace 
of God, to c go and do likewise.' 

From childhood to maturity, his conduct was 
worthy of imitation. At school, and at the univer- 
sity, he was distinguished by his simplicity, his sin- 
cerity, his benevolence, and his exemplary diligence. 

He engaged in his professional studies under the 
direction of an eminent practitioner, with an ardor 



* John D. Wells, M. D. 



70 



THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 



which was an earnest of future excellence ; and this 
ardor did not abate, but grew stronger and stronger 
as long as he lived. 

He had scarcely entered on the practice of his 
profession, before he was called to lecture on anato- 
my and surgery, at Bowdoin College, in Maine ; and 
not long after, at a respectable medical institution 
in this state. 

In the first named institution he was elected a 
professor, and was intrusted with the important 
commission of selecting, in Europe, a medical 
library. 

This commission he fulfilled with much judg- 
ment, and returned to contribute, as he did largely 
contribute, to raise the schools with which he was 
connected, to an elevated rank. 

In the mean time, his reputation as a lecturer 
continued to increase and extend itself, till he had 
attained to a distinction second to none in the 
branch of instruction to which he was devoted. 

On a vacancy occurring in the medical depart- 
ment in the University of Maryland, which, from 
the eminence of its professors, had acquired an hon- 
orable celebrity, and from which a professor had 
been recently selected for the London University, 
he was invited to become a candidate ; and, though 
he had powerful competitors, — himself an entire 
stranger, — was unanimously elected to the vacant 
chair. 

He had now reached an eminence to which few, 
at his age, are permitted to attain ; and might look 



THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 



71 



forward, we might suppose, to a distinguished, and, 
what to him was first and most valued, a useful 
career. He was destined, in the Providence of 
God, for higher duties, and a more exalted sphere 
of honor and usefulness. 

When the tidings of his election reached him, 
death had set its seal upon him. The fatigue, inci- 
dent to the delivery of three courses of lectures in 
quick succession, at remote distances in the places 
of their delivery ; the anxiety attendant on success- 
ful competition, and the journey back, to commence 
a new course of lectures at Brunswick ; destroyed 
his life. 

Go with me to his chamber. 

' The chamber where the good man meets his fate, 
Is privileged above the common walks of virtuous life, 
Just in the verge of heaven ! ' 

He was a Christian. He had studied his Bible. 

A few years since he became a communicant in 
this church ; and, as religion had been his constant 
companion in life, it did not forsake him when its 
supports were most needed. 

' I had hoped,' he said, ' to live that I might do 
good. If I know my own heart, this was my chief 
desire. But if it be the will of God that I should 
die, His will be done. I trust in the mercy of God 
through the mediation of my Saviour.' 

During a part of his sickness, he was deprived of 
his sight, and it was doubtful, if his life should be 
spared, whether he would ever see again. 



72 



THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 



It will serve to exhibit, in a striking light, the 
influence of his religious principles, and his confi- 
dence in the wisdom and goodness of God, to men- 
tion that he was calmly planning for himself a 
course of useful employment on the presumption 
that he should be blind. 

I might occupy your attention for a long time 
in describing the holy exercises of his mind, as dis- 
played in his deportment and conversation at this 
period. I must, however, add but little more. 

On entering his chamber on a certain day, he 
said to me with much feeling, ' I am greatly dis- 
tressed. I have thought I was dying, and my 
thoughts were all of God and heaven. But now I 
think I may recover, and the world has come in to 
absorb my thoughts, and the heavenly visions seem 
to be departing. I have no wish to return to the 
world again.' 

When a friend was leaving him for Brunswick, 
and asked him if he had any thing to say to his 
friends there, he replied, 4 Tell them that I am dy- 
ing ; that I die in the faith of the gospel of Christ, 
and that this faith is every thing to me, — my sup- 
port and comfort.' 

But I must forbear. In being thus minute, I 
have deviated from the course which I have almost 
invariably pursued. But I consider this case, in its 
combined circumstances, an extraordinary one, and 
as demanding peculiar notice. 

I present this example to children and youth ; to 
show them how much may be gained, in a brief 



THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 



73 



period, by the diligent application of the mental 
powers to some useful pursuit, when those powers 
are controlled and sanctified by religion. 

If it be asked to what he was indebted for dis- 
tinction and success ? I answer, not to his talents 
merely, but to his strong sense of duty, which 
prompted him to intense application and unceasing 
industry. 

If it be said that his exertions shortened his life, 
I answer, it is true ; and in the intensity of his ex- 
ertions he erred, and is not to be imitated; but I 
also answer, that he lived long in a short time ; 
for ' honorable age is not that which standeth in 
length of time, nor that is measured by number of 
years ; but wisdom is the gray hair unto men, and 
an unspotted life is old age.' 

' He being made perfect' or sanctified, 1 in a short 
time, fulfilled a long time ; for his soul pleased the 
Lord, therefore hasted He to take him away.' 



VOL. II. 



7 



74 



SERMON XII. 



CHRISTIAN HEROISM. * 
Romans viii. 38, 39. — none of these things move me, neither 

COUNT I MY LIFE DEAR UNTO MYSELF, SO THAT I MIGHT FINISH 
MY COURSE WITH JOY, AND THE MINISTRY I HAVE RECEIVED OF 
THE LORD JESUS, TO TESTIFY THE GOSPEL OF THE GRACE OF GOD. 

It is Paul the apostle, — the persecuted, suffering 
apostle of Christ, — who utters the words I have 
now read to you. 

But a little while since, he was himself a persecu- 
tor, 1 breathing threatenings and slaughter,' and pur- 
suing even to the death, the devoted followers of 
Jesus. 



* This sermon, written in the ordinary course of preparation 
for the pulpit, is only a sketch of an important argument. 'I he 
author was called upon unexpectedly, with the notice of only a few 
hours, to preach at the annual convention of the Congregational 
ministers of Massachusetts, a service to which he had been appoint- 
ed for the following year. He had just preached this sermon to his 
own people, and took it for this occasion. The concluding appeal is 
here retained, in the hope that it will excite attention to the interesting 
class of sufferers on whose behalf the appeal was uttered, and for whom 
a contribution was made at the time at which it was delivered. The 
Congregational Charitable Society was instituted for their relief, 
and is a society eminently worthy of the bounty of the beneficent. 



CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 



75 



Behold how changed ! He has embraced the faith 
which he once attempted to destroy. He has as- 
sumed the name which he once despised, and 
rejoices to be counted worthy to endure the loss of 
all things for the sake of his profession. 

And what was it that effected this astonishing 
revolution in the sentiments and feelings of this 
distinguished man ? Was it ambition ? — No. He 
was the pupil of one of the most eminent lawyers 
of his time ; himself possessed of talents and learn- 
ing which qualified him for aspiring to some of the 
highest stations in his country, and that country 
the mistress of the world. 

All that was alluring in the career of worldly 
glory he forsook. He averted his eyes from the 
bright visions that had doubtless risen before his 
youthful fancy, and turned his feet into the humble, 
gloomy path of infamy and death. 

Was it the love of gain ? — In the practice of an 
honorable profession, with his talents and learning 
and ardor, he would doubtless soon have risen to 
wealth as well as to eminence. But what was his 
prospect, I beseech you, as a disciple of the new 
religion ? Its founder had led a life of poverty and 
apparent wretchedness, and the band of followers 
to which he joined himself, might have addressed 
him in the language of one of them on another 
occasion, £ Silver and gold have we none.' Their 
wealth was comprised in the garments that covered 
them, and the implements of their humble calling. 
Was it the love of ease and pleasure ? To these 



76 



CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 



he might have aspired before he became a Christian, 
but his own experience as an opposer and persecu- 
tor of the Christians, had taught him that not ease 
and pleasure, but toil and suffering awaited him in 
his new vocation. 

Examine all the motives by which worldly men 
are actuated in their choice of a profession in life, 
and you will find that none of them could have 
operated to induce the disciple of Gamaliel to be- 
come the disciple of Christ. No. It was a convic- 
tion of the truth of the cause he espoused ; a con- 
viction produced by a miraculous intervention of 
Divine agency. 

At the moment when his zeal against the religion 
of Christ is at its height, when he is on his way , 
from one city to another, to seize and imprison and 
destroy its votaries, at such a moment, and under 
such circumstances, he is arrested in his course, and 
the whole current of his ^thoughts and feelings and 
purposes changed. The hand of Him whom he had 
persecuted was stretched forth to lead him out of 
the darkness in which he wandered, into ' marvellous 
light.' 

At mid-day, — when the sun shone the brightest, 
— a brighter light than that of the sun, in his me- 
ridian splendor, burst upon him. Overpowered by 
the radiance, he fell to the earth, and heard a voice, 
not of anger, but of pity and affectionate expostu- 
lation. It was the voice of Jesus, calling him from 
the mad and cruel pursuit in which he was engaged, 
to be the advocate of a better cause ; to renounce 



CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 



77 



the honor and reward of a zealous persecutor, for a 
crown of martyrdom. 

' I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to 
make thee a minister and a witness, both of these 
things which thou hast seen, and of those things in 
the which I will appear mnto thee. Delivering thee 
from the people and the Gentiles, unto whom I 
now send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them 
from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan 
to God, that they may receive the forgiveness of 
sins, and an inheritance among them that are sanc- 
tified, through faith that is in me.' 

And now he consults not with flesh and blood. 
His eyes had beheld celestial light, and he must 
follow its guidance. His ears had heard the voice 
of the risen, ascended Saviour, and he must obey. 
He throws aside the weapons of his warfare, and 
girds himself with truth, and puts on the ' armor of 
righteousness,' and goes forth to contend with spir- 
itual enemies ; to overturn the empire of vice and 
wickedness, and to establish 1 a kingdom that is not 
of this world.' 1 

As the despised disciple of a despised Nazarene, 
he feels a moral dignity which he had never felt 
before, and enjoys a peace which the world could 
not give, nor take away. He is conscious that he 
has espoused the cause of truth and virtue, and in 
this panoply he feels himself secure. The honors, 
and treasures, and enjoyments of the world have no 
attractions for him now. His reward is on high. 
' The honor that cometh from God,' imperishable, 

7* 



78 



CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 



immortal ; the treasures of His grace and love, 
inexhaustible ; the enjoyments of heaven, unfad- 
ing, eternal. These are his, and he will not ex- 
change them, — No ! he will not exchange them for 
all that the world can give him. It has nothing 
valuable enough to tempt him ; it has nothing ap- 
palling enough to frighten him from his holy pur- 
pose. He may well say then, as he did, for himself 
and his fellow- disciples, ' I am persuaded that 
neither life nor death, nor principalities nor powers, 
nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, shall 
be able to separate us from the love of God in 
Christ Jesus our Lord.' 

The strength of his resolution had been tested, 
he had faced death in every form, and in all times 
of suffering and danger could say, ' None of these 
things move me, neither count I my life dear unto 
myself, that I may finish my course with joy, and 
the ministry that I have received of the Lord, to 
testify the Gospel of the grace of God.' 

His course is finished. It is finished ' with joy.' 
He had ' fought a good fight, and kept the faith,' 
and has received ' the crown of righteousness,' that 
was ' laid up ' for him ' in heaven.' He is encircled 
with a far brighter glory than that which surround- 
ed him on the way to Damascus. 

Christian ! examine thyself, and see how much 
of the spirit of this devoted disciple dwells in thee. 

What value have the things of this world in thy 
estimation, compared with the things that are 
unseen and eternal ? — With what patience dost 



CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 



79 



thou bear the injuries, with what firmness dost thou 
meet the dangers, with what submission dost thou 
endure the sufferings to which thou art called ? 
Born in a Christian land, and educated in the 
knowledge of those glorious truths for which this 
apostle contended so earnestly, labored so diligently, 
endured so patiently, — for which he was willing to 
live in poverty and wretchedness, and die in tor- 
ture, Christian ! dost thou prize this religion as thy 
greatest treasure, follow it as thy surest guide, cling 
to it as thine only ark of safety, and count all things 
but ' loss ' for the excellency of its knowledge and 
the worth of its possession ? 

It is indeed thy greatest treasure, thy surest 
guide, and thine only ark of safety. Amidst the 
vexations, disappointments and sufferings of life, it 
is this alone that can afford thee adequate support 
and consolation. If thou hast truly embraced it, 
none of these things will greatly move thee. For a 
time they may interrupt, but they will not destroy 
thy peace. In the sanctuary which religion has 
opened, thou art beyond their power to harm thee. 

Christian minister ! Examine thyself, and see how 
much of the spirit of this devoted disciple of the 
Lord Jesus dwells in thee. Art thou ready to make 
any sacrifice, to endure any hardship, to suffer any 
privation, to sustain any reproach, for thy Master's 
sake ? — Dost thou not, from fear, or favor, ' shun to 
declare the whole counsel of God, whether they 
will hear, or whether they will forbear ' ? 



80 



CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 



Dost thou not, from dread of censure, or love of 
applause, c keep back any thing that is profitable ' ? 

In short, dost thou 4 take up thy cross,' and do 
thy duty, through good report and evil report, 4 not 
counting even thy life dear unto thyself, if thou 
canst finish thy course with joy, and the ministry 
that thou hast received from the Lord Jesus, to 
testify the Gospel of the grace of God ' ? 

There is a voice, powerful and emphatic, issuing 
from the tomb, and urging us to duty. There is a 
voice, powerful and emphatic, issuing from the 
abodes of the blessed, and urging us to duty. 

It comes from the tombs of our deceased breth- 
ren. It comes from the abode to which their un- 
fettered souls have ascended. 

Our brethren have 1 rested from their labors.' 
Their work on earth is finished. Their trials are 
ended. 

We pay a passing tribute of respect to their 
memory ; utter our mournful regrets that in the 
places where we have been accustomed to see them, 
we shall see them no more, and, with us, it is over. 

But there are those with whom it is not so. It 
is not so with those who shared in their labors and 
cares, and whose love and sympathy divided and 
lightened the weight of their pressure. No. It is 
not so with them. They feel, in the lowest depths 
of their souls, their sad bereavement. 

The heart that beat responsive to their affection 
and tenderness, has ceased to beat at all. The arm 
on which they leaned for support can no longer 



CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 



81 



support them. They are ividoivs. Ah ! how much 
of sorrow and desolateness is there in that word ! 

Some of them are aged and infirm ; not a few of 
them are poor. Of one, the report that reaches us 
is that her whole annual income is five dollars. Of 
another, that her proportion of the contribution 
which is made at this season, is all that keeps her 
from the almshouse. 

I plead with you, this day, on their behalf. O, 
how powerful would be the plea if, instead of utter- 
ing my feeble exhortation in their cause, I could 
bring before you the destitute children of these 
widows, to utter in your hearing, from that sacred 
book which their fathers taught, a more persuasive 
appeal than art or eloquence could invent; and 
which would not fail to reach your hearts ! 

We are orphans, and fatherless. Our 
mothers are as widows. 



82 



SERMON XIII. 



PRAYER. 

Psalm cxlv. — the lord is nigh unto all them that call upon 

HIM, TO ALL THAT CALL UPON HIM IN TRUTH. 

You are often reminded in this place, — and not 
in this place only, — of the nature, the obligation, 
and the benefit of prayer. 

So long as man is ignorant, and needs to be 
enlightened; weak, and needs to be strengthened; 
sinful, and needs to be forgiven ; so long will a 
frequent recurrence to this topic be necessary and 
beneficial. 

It is Divine Wisdom that must enlighten our 
ignorance. It is Divine Power that must strength- 
en our weakness. It is Divine Compassion that 
must pardon our offences ; and, if we desire light, 
strength and pardon, we must pray. It is prayer 
that furnishes the panoply against the force of temp- 
tation, and the wings on which we ascend to 
heaven. 

Every relation that we bear to God ; every per- 
fection of His glorious character ; every attribute of 
our frail, dependent nature, furnishes strong and 
indisputable motives for this sacred duty. 



PRAYER. 



83 



But there is another reason why we should often 
discourse on the duty of prayer. Important as it is 
to our spiritual life, growth and happiness, still 
there is reason to believe that it is much neglected. 

There are some, who, if they do not say with 
the ancient scoffers, ' Who is the Lord that we 
should fear Him?' adopt at least a part of their 
language, and ask ' What profit shall we have if 
we pray unto Him ? ' 

There are others whose time is so filled with the 
cares and occupations of life, serious and trifling, 
that they allow themselves little or no leisure for 
the performance of this duty; or, whose minds are 
so intent on these objects, that when they seem to 
pray they do not. Their words are of God and 
heaven, but their thoughts are of earth and earthly 
things. 

Need I say in this congregation, in answer to 
those who object that prayer is useless, that there 
is indeed 1 much profit in praying to God ? ' — Need 
I say how much it promotes gratitude, trust, purity, 
benevolence, penitence, pious resolutions, watchful- 
ness ? — Need I say that God has commanded it, 
again and again, and that obedience to Him is 
always profitable to us, from the influence it has on 
our character, as well as from its rendering us ac- 
ceptable to Him? — Need I say that God has pro- 
mised blessings as the reward of this obedience ? 
especially the gift of His Holy Spirit, — which I 
will not say is important, — which is essential to 
our progress in holiness ? 



84 



PRAYER. 



I know that there are some who speak slight- 
ingly of Divine influences. I do not censure them, 
— for this is not my province, — but I differ from 
them. If I disbelieve the reality of these influences, 
I must relinquish my faith in the Bible, for, to my 
understanding, they are as clearly taught there as 
language can teach them. How many are there 
who might go much farther than this, and say that 
they would as soon doubt their existence as that 
they had felt these holy influences, and enjoyed the 
light and comfort they impart! 

Do we pray that God would restore our health, 
and is it not equally rational to suppose that He 
would give health to our souls ? If He hath breathed 
into us the breath of life, so 4 His Almighty Inspira- 
tion hath given us understanding,' and if He can 
rekindle the flame of life which is expiring, so He 
can illumine our minds, revive the decaying flame 
of piety, and cause it to burn with mew ardor. 

It has been objected to prayer, that it implies that 
God is changeable; but the reverse of this is the 
fact. He has annexed a certain reward to the right 
performance of this service, and the granting that 
reward is a proof of his unchangeableness. 

But, there are others, I have said, who neglect 
prayer because their time and their minds are en- 
grossed by the world, — its cares and its pleasures. 
To them I would say, that the world is not their 
home, and that it would profit them nothing to gain 
the whole world and lose their souls. I would tell 
them that their seasons of devotion may be ob- 



PRAYER. 



85 



served, and not interfere with their necessary busi- 
ness or their innocent enjoyments, and that there is 
no duty so necessary as this, and no enjoyment so 
great as that which results from it. I would tell 
them, too, that they can be ' fervent in spirit,' whilst 
they are 1 not slothful in business,' and that a spirit 
of prayer whilst it prompts to fidelity, will promote 
success. 

There are doubtless many prayers addressed to 
God to which no answer is given, — which do not 
find acceptance with Him. 

Have we ever offered such prayers ? — Have we 
ever felt that our prayers returned to us void ? — 
Have we risen from our devotions, and gone forth 
to the business of life, conscious that we have not 
found the blessing we sought; — uncheered by a 
sense of the Divine Presence, unsanctified by the 
Divine Spirit ? — Have we sought for holy influ- 
ences and failed to obtain them ? If it has been so, 
let us examine ourselves. Are we not conscious 
that our prayers did not deserve to be heard and 
answered ? — Can we not assign to ourselves a sat- 
isfactory reason for their returning to us empty and 
void? 

Did we seek for spiritual blessings ? Were not 
our desires after them so vague, so superficial, — 
our petitions for them so languid and feeble and 
cold, our conduct in this respect, and perhaps our 
real sentiments, — so little in accordance with our 
prayers, that we need not be surprised they were 
rejected ? We ' ask and receive not, because we ask 

VOL. II. S 



86 



PRAYER. 



amiss.' Our prayers were lifeless, heartless, insin- 
cere, and could we expect that they would go up to 
heaven, and be accepted and registered there ? — 
Could we expect that it was only necessary to pro- 
nounce a form of words, in order to be renewed in 
the temper of our minds; to be transformed into 
true Christians ; to be sanctified, and made meet 
for engaging, as we ought, in the employments of 
earth, and for the enjoyments of heaven ? — Where 
shall we find a man so thoughtless, may I not 
say so abandoned, as not to have offered the same 
prayer ? 

It is not to those who merely call upon God, that 
the promise is given. We may 1 cry aloud,' like the 
priests of Baal, and no fire come down to consume 
the offering. We may build the altar, and lay the 
wood, and kindle the fire, but, if we have not a 
pure victim for the sacrifice, our labor will be vain. 
4 If ye offer the blind for sacrifice, is it not evil ? ' 
4 If ye offer the lame and sick, is it not evil? — 
Offer it to thy governor, and see if he will be better 
pleased, or accept thy offering, saith the Lord of 
hosts.' 

Religion has its seat in the heart ; and every ser- 
vice, to be acceptable, must have its origin there. 
It is the simplicity of the heart that is the best 
inditer of our prayers. The head may find words, 
but the finding devout affections is the business of 
the heart. We must pray with the heart, if we 
would obtain acceptance, and we may thus pray and 
use no form of words. We may breathe a sigh, 



PRAYER. 



87 



and, if that sigh is breathed from a humble con- 
trite heart, it will not be lost upon the air. It will 
be wafted upward. It will come np into the ear of 
the Eternal, and we have the pledge of Him who 
cannot lie, that it will ' not be despised.' 

But, if the heart be not engaged, our prayers are 
useless ; they are worse than useless. They are re- 
garded with displeasure by a God of truth. If we 
pray for the forgiveness of sins and do not repent 
of our sins, but 'regard iniquity in our hearts,' God 
will not hear us. If we pray for the assistance of 
God's spirit, and do not sincerely and fervently de- 
sire that assistance, God will not hear us. 

When we pray, then, we should do what we can 
to adjust our spirits to the posture of true devotion. 
We should 1 not be hasty to utter any thing before 
God;' but should seriously examine ourselves, to 
see whether we are about to pray ' in sincerity and 
truth.' 

We should reflect on the greatness and power of 
God, and remember that it is to that high and in- 
comprehensible Being, who by a word created all 
things from nothing, and by a word can reduce 
them to nothing again, that we are to address our- 
selves in prayer. We should reflect on the omni- 
presence and omniscience of God, and remember 
that it is to Him whose infinite, all-seeing know- 
ledge looks through the recesses of every heart, 
that we address our prayers. We should reflect 
on the infinite purity and holiness of God, and con- 
sider that it is to that Being who 4 cannot look 



88 



PRAYER. 



upon sin,' that we offer our prayers. "We should 
reflect on our own wants, weaknesses, and sins, 
and remember that it is to Him who alone can sup- 
ply, strengthen, forgive, that we address our prayers. 

But this is not all. We are permitted to remem- 
ber, when we pray, that it is to 'our Father in 
heaven,' who is compassionate and ready to for- 
give, and to help our infirmities, that we offer our 
prayers. 

And when we have done praying, we must evince 
our sincerity by our labors. Like Moses, — but in 
a spiritual sense, — we must combat while we pray. 
God will not do all. If He did, we should not be 
free, accountable agents, but mere machines. We 
must strive to 1 work out our own salvation,' and 
we may then look, with humble confidence, to God 
4 to work in us, both to will and to do.' 

Then, and then only, can we expect Divine as- 
sistance, and that assistance will render our own 
efforts effectual. Who that has sought in sincerity 
has not found help in time of need, and strength 
when he has felt his own weakness, and was ready 
to despair? 

It is thus with spiritual blessings. But we some- 
times ask for temporal blessings and meet with dis- 
appointment. Can it be said that we do not truly 
desire them when we ask for them ? Would that 
we were always as sincere when we ask for the for- 
giveness of our sins, and the grace of God, as when 
we ask for the blessings of the present world ! 

Here let us again examine ourselves, and we 



PRAYER. 



89 



shall probably find that we have found a reason for 
our disappointment, 

Do we not remember how little we know what is 
best for us, and have we not often found in our ex- 
perience, that, if our petition had been granted, we 
should have deeply, yes, bitterly, regretted it? 

Are our prayers the prayers of ambition ? — The 
places to which we aspired might have exposed us 
to temptations which would have proved too pow- 
erful for us, and to which, in a humbler station, we 
are not exposed ; and might minister food to pas- 
sions which, in a humbler station, would have found 
no aliment. 

Are our prayers the prayers of avarice ? The 
possession of riches might corrupt us, — might 
stifle the germ of piety which had been planted 
within us, when it would otherwise grow up into 
full maturity. 

It is thus with every thing of a temporal nature 
for which we pray. It might prove a snare to our 
virtue, or, in some way or other, prove injurious to 
ourselves, or others, if our prayers were granted. 

In refusing to hear us, God is merciful. As a 
father, attentive to the best welfare of his children, 
seeing afar off, though they cannot discern them, 
the instruments of their unhappiness and ruin, He 
mercifully averts the blow, which, in ignorance, they 
may be earnestly striving to bring upon their heads. 

When we ask of God as a good, what might 
prove an evil, the more inexorable He is, the more 
does He manifest His benevolence and love. In 
8* 



90 PRAYER. 

refusing to hear us, He does most effectually hear 
us. His regard for us is most truly shown when 
He seems most regardless of us. He is the kindest, 
when He appears the most unkind. His mercy 
shines the brightest, in the darkest night of ad- 
versity. 

The prayer of faith and sincerity has not been 
offered in vain, my hearers, when it operates a 
change upon us, and renders us more fit to receive 
the favors of Heaven. In this sense, a fervent 
prayer will be ' effectual,' and we shall not fail to 
experience, when we i pray to God most High,' 
that 4 He performeth all things ' that are necessary 
and best ' for us.' 

Oh, that we might all realize as we ought, the 
duty and the privilege of prayer ! — that we might 
thankfully and eagerly fly to it as the source of our 
greatest comfort, and our highest happiness ! 

Let the sinner fly to it, as he needs and hopes for 
forgiveness and mercy. Let the ignorant fly to it, as 
the means of obtaining divine illumination. Let 
the feeble and helpless fly to it, as their staff and 
support. Let the anxious fly to it, as the source of 
that ' peace which passeth understanding.' Let the 
afflicted fly to it, as their solace and refuge, for it 
mixes in the bitterest cup the healing balsam of 
heavenly consolation. In their affliction let them 
repose themselves on God, and they shall find 
support. Let them tell their sorrows to their com- 
passionate Father who will bring good out of evil, 
and cause these comparatively 'light afflictions, 



PKAYER. 



91 



which are but for a moment, to work out for them 
an exceeding, an eternal weight of glory.' 

If ' His way is in the sea, and His footsteps are 
not known,' if ' clouds and darkness are round about 
Him,' and hide from them the light of His counte- 
nance, let them not despond. He is essentially cloth- 
ed with the effulgence of light. ' Righteousness and 
justice and mercy are the habitation of His throne.' 

Who are they, then, that are faithless respecting 
the efficacy of prayer? Let them habitually, and 
rightfully practise it, and they will 4 be no longer 
faithless, but believing.' 

They will have abundant experience of its 
blessed effects ; they will advance in knowledge and 
virtue ; they will feel increasing consolation, satis- 
faction and joy ; they will find support and aid under 
the difficulties of life; they will enjoy a sacred 
peace, — £ a hope that maketh not ashamed,' in the 
hour of death ; and be prepared for a world where 
pure, unmixed devotion reigns and triumphs for- 
ever and ever. 



92 



SERMON XIV. 



IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 

1 John, V. 21. — KEEP YOURSELVES FROM IDOLS. 

The caution in our text was peculiarly important 
in the early ages of Christianity. Many of the 
Christians were converts from heathenism, and, 
dwelling in the midst of those from whose faith 
and worship they had withdrawn themselves, were 
in danger of relapsing into their former errors and 
superstitions. 

To that portion of them who were converts from 
Judaism, it was by no means unnecessary ; for the 
Jews, notwithstanding the clearest proofs of the 
existence, the unity, the unrivalled excellence, and 
supreme authority of God ; notwithstanding the 
peculiar regard which God had expressed for them, 
and the repeated obligations he had imposed upon 
them, were strongly addicted to idolatry. 

To those whose condition resembles that of the 
early Christians, the admonition in the text might 
now with great propriety and effect be addressed. 
But why should it be brought forward in a land of 
Christian light and knowledge ? — Why should it 



IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 



93 



be directed to a Christian congregation assembled 
for the express purpose of worshipping the one 
living and true God, and who are in no danger of 
falling into Pagan superstition and idolatry? 

We look around us, and there are no altars 
erected to Baal ; no shrine for the goddess of the 
Ephesians ; no temple consecrated to the 6 unknown 
God. ' — The night of Pagan superstition and 
idolatry has fled away, 'the day-spring from on 
high hath visited us,' — we dwell in the noon-day 
splendor of Gospel light, and Gospel privileges. 
There is no danger then, surely, that we should 
worship false divinities ; that we should bow down 
to stocks and stones. 

From religious idolatry, my friends, — from the 
idolatry of the heathen, — the Gospel has happily 
freed us ; but there is another species of idolatry 
which, though less gross in appearance, may not be 
less criminal. I speak of that moral idolatry, by 
which, whilst the true God is ostensibly worshipped, 
the homage of the heart is paid to another. In 
this sense, how much idolatry, — what images, 
what idols, what false divinities do we not discover 
in the midst of Christians ? What, I ask, is every 
irregular passion which we fondly cherish, and for 
which we are disposed to make the greatest sacri- 
fices ? What is it but idolatry ? 

To build temples in honor of God, then, to cele- 
brate His praises, to address our prayers to Him, 
to bow down before Him, — these are but equivocal 
marks of religion, and are often deceitful. To 



94 



IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 



worship God as we ought, is to worship Him in 
6 spirit and in truth,' — to acknowledge Him in our 
hearts as the most perfect of all beings ; to pay 
Him the homage, not of our bodies, only, but also 
of our souls. 

With what complacency, I beseech you, can He 
regard a service in which the heart has no share ? 
No ! All incense that is offered only with the hands, 
is an abomination to Him. He must have the first 
place in our hearts. He must reign supreme over 
our affections and our wills. Let us engage then, 
in the duty of self-examination. Let us see if there 
is no idol in our hearts which usurps, in some 
measure, the place which belongs only to God. 

1st. 4 Covetousness,' — the immoderate love of 
money, — ' is idolatry.' 

Is money our idol ? Does this absorb our 
thoughts, — our cares ? Do we regard this as our 
chief good, as the source of our highest happiness ? 
If so, we are idolators. 

Though we we do not acknowledge fortune as 
our divinity ; though we do not build altars to its 
honor; though we do not directly address our 
prayers to it ; though we do not literally bow down 
before it ; yet we are not the less idolators. 

Our hearts, which ought to be temples for the 
Holy Spirit, are the temples of an idol. We ren- 
der it our unremitted service. It obtains our incense ; 
it obtains our vows. 

Ah, of what importance is it that we do not 
render it our formal worship, if we in reality wor- 



IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 



95 



ship it ! Of what importance is it that we offer to 
God the homage of our lips, if we say in our 
hearts, ' to gold, Thou art my god ; and to fine 
gold, thou art my confidence ? ' 

' No man can serve two masters.' He must 
attach himself to one, to the exclusion of the other. 
4 Ye cannot serve God and Mammon.' We cannot 
give our hearts to two objects, when these objects 
are opposed to each other. There will be an in- 
evitable, a perpetual conflict. We must decide 
between them. 

' Choose ye this day whom ye will serve.' God, 
or Mammon. Your religion, or your love of gain. 
They are as incompatible as heaven and hell; as 
light and darkness. 

2d. Nor is idolatry confined to the immoderate 
love of money. The immoderate love of pleasure, 
is idolatry. 

Is pleasure our idol ? Is this the object of our 
thoughts, — I may emphatically say of our labor ? 

Wherever amusement invites, or pleasure calls, 
are we eager to go ? Do we spend our days in 
preparing for such scenes, and our nights in enjoying 
them ? 

Do we lead a life of frivolity and levity ? Are 
we absorbed in the whirlpool of fashionable folly, 
and hurried along by a rapid succession of amuse- 
ments ? 

Are the dear delights of family intercourse, the 
gentle charities of private life, the sweet emanations 
of conjugal, parental, and filial affection, insipid, 



96 IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 

compared with the gay party, the splendid ball- 
room, or, — infinitely worse, — the haunts of dissi- 
pation and excess ? 

Every amusement, every pleasure, carried to ex- 
cess, is criminal. It diverts the mind from God 
and duty. It unfits it for serious reflection. We 
may enjoy pleasure ; but we must be temperate and 
moderate in the enjoyment of it. We must be 
careful that we are c not lovers of pleasure more 
than lovers of God.' 

3d. An immoderate love of honor and distinction, 
is idolatry. 

Is the love of honor or of praise, the ruling principle 
of our actions ? Do we feed upon the chaff, are we 
puffed up by the breath of popular applause ? In 
short, do we ' love the praise of men, more than the 
praise of God ? ' Then we are idolators. 

Profit, honor and pleasure have been called the 
world's trinity. They are the gods whom the 
world worships. 

But methinks I hear more than one in this 
assembly reply, 1 If this is idolatry, then are not we 
idolators. We have no immoderate love of money, 
or of pleasure, or of fame.' 

If it be really so, my friends, you have cause 
indeed for self-congratulation. But let me ask you 
again to look into the recesses of that heart which 
is known only to God and to yourselves. 

If you do not find there an image of gold, or the 
shrine of pleasure, or a temple to fame, is there no 
idol there ? 

Is not a husband, or a wife, or a child, or some 



IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 97 

other object of affection, your idol ? Has nothing 
a larger share in your heart, than your God ? Does 
nothing interfere with the duty, the homage, which 
you owe to Him ? 

If there is any thing, — bear with me my friends, — 
and yet why should I say bear with me? — you 
are idolators. You are giving to others what 
belongs only to Him who has given you all. 

I may call upon you with propriety to ' keep 
yourselves from idols.' I may call upon you to 
' separate between you and your gods.' 

Let me not be misunderstood. You may love 
these objects. You may love them fervently. 
It would be monstrous if you did not. But you 
must love the Giver in the gift, and Him supremely. 
Else are you idolators. 

To conclude. Do you seek for riches? — The 
inexhaustible riches of God's mercy in Jesus Christ 
are spread before you ; treasures which ' the world 
cannot give, nor take away.' 

Do you pant after honor and distinction ? Behold 
' a crown of glory which fadeth not away.' Listen 
to the honorable testimony with which God himself 
will reward your sincere endeavors to serve Him. 
' Well done, good and faithful servant ! Enter 
into the joy of thy lord.' 

Is pleasure the object of your search? Joys with 
* which strangers cannot intermeddle, are offered to 
' you; the fellowship of angels, the presence of the 
ever-living God, in whose presence there is fulness 
of joy, and pleasures forevermore. 

VOT,. II. 9 



98 



SERMON XV. 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 
Malachi iii. 2. — they that feared the lord spake often one to 

ANOTHER. 

It was in a degenerate age that these words were 
spoken. The glory had departed from Judah. The 
worship of God was profaned in the land. The 
priests and the people were alike the slaves of cor- 
ruption. 

But, in the midst of this wicked generation, there 
were some that ' feared the Lord ; ' and their minds 
were fortified, and the sentiment of piety cherished, 
by frequent communion with one another. 

If we have fallen on better times ; if there is less 
degeneracy among us ; if there is a more general 
acknowledgment of religious obligations ; still there 
was something, even in those times, which is wor- 
thy of our imitation. We find it in the text. ' They 
that feared the Lord spake often one to another. 1 
They spake of religion ; of God and duty ; for it is 
said that 'the Lord hearkened and heard, and a 
book of remembrance was written before Him for 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



99 



them that fear the Lord and that thought upon His 
name.' 

It is to religious conversation, then, that the text 
directs our attention ; and I scarcely know a subject 
on which a word of admonition is more needed than 
this. 

Mankind are variously occupied. They are en- 
gaged in professions and employments which lead 
them into different paths. Among those who are 
engaged in the same pursuit, there is frequent com- 
munion. It is natural and fit that it should be so. 
It promotes information, activity, enterprise. 

But however variously mankind may be occupied, 
in however different paths they may be pursuing the 
journey of life, there is one subject in which they 
have a common interest, and one path in which 
they are travelling together. 

The subject in which they have a common inter- 
est is religion ; and the path in which they are 
walking together, is the path to the grave. 

Is it not natural and fit that this subject should 
occupy much of their attention ; and that, as they 
travel together, it should often find a place in their 
discourse ? Worldly pursuits terminate at death. 
The factitious distinctions which wealth and honor 
confer, have no place in ' the land without any 
order.' 

' We brought nothing into the world with us, 
and we can carry nothing out.' But it is not so 
with intellectual and moral pursuits. They relate 
to the immortal part of our nature, and are them- 



100 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



selves immortal. The acquisitions of wisdom and 
piety accompany us into the region beyond the 
grave ; and have an important influence on our eter- 
nal well-being. All that relates merely to the present 
world will soon have no place in our regard. The 
time is coming when the interests of this world will 
be nothing, and religion every thing ; when the time 
which has been spent in idle, frivolous conversation 
will be remembered with poignant regret ; and the 
time which has been devoted to religious commu- 
nion, with unspeakable satisfaction and comfort. 

If I could lift the curtain of eternity, and disclose 
to you the awful realities that are hidden behind it, 
you would realize, — but, till that curtain is lifted, 
and the disembodied spirit is permitted to behold 
the scene to which this scene is preparatory, you 
cannot fully realize, how deeply this subject con- 
cerns you. You are now inhabitants of earth. You 
have known no other world than this. Your closest 
ties, your dearest and most interesting associations 
are here. It is difficult for you to feel, — however 
you may believe, — that this world is not your home. 
You lay plans for an earthly futurity. You ' buy, 
and sell, and get gain ; ' and if you breathe a sigh 
that life is short and uncertain, do you not say in 
the same breath, ' Soul, take thine ease, thou hast 
goods laid up for many years ? ' 

Here is one reason why an admonition on this 
subject is needed. The subject is all-important and 
momentous. It is important as our intellectual 
and immortal nature. It is momentous as the con- 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



101 



cerns of eternity. If it becomes us to speak often to 
one another on the business of this fleeting life, it 
much more becomes us to speak often one to another 
on the business of a life that will never end. 

But what is the fact ? Alas ! we need have but 
little intercourse with the world to perceive that the 
reverse of this is the fact. 

It is well that the hours of business should be 
devoted to useful business, and hours of recreation 
to harmless recreation, and at such seasons the con- 
versation may partake of the nature of the employ- 
ment. But how little is spared to high and holy 
converse with one another! Even among those 
who are known to each other as fearing the same 
God, and trusting in the same Saviour, as members 
of the same household of faith; who have joined 
together in the exercises of devotion, and are re- 
membered, it may be, — it should be, — in each 
other's prayers ; even among these, too, religious 
conversation seems to be almost interdicted ; is 
chilled with obstinate silence, if it is not rebuked 
with a sneer. Even they speak to one another on 
subjects the most frivolous, or subjects worse than 
frivolous, in preference to those which belong to 
their best welfare. £ The Lord hearkeneth and 
heareth.' A book of remembrance is written be- 
fore Him, and ' for every idle word we must give 
account.' 

Here, then, is another reason why an admonition 
on this subject is needed. Notwithstanding the 
9* 



102 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



importance of religion, there is comparatively but 
little religious conversation. 

There is political conversation. There is con- 
versation about parties of pleasure, and about 
amusements. There is conversation about people's 
character and conduct. There is conversation about 
preachers and preaching ; conversation about points 
of ' doubtful disputation which engender strife, but 
do not serve for edifying ; ' which destroy the kind 
affections, and root out the Christian graces. There 
is much gossiping about religion, but very little re- 
ligious conversation. 

How much has what is termed religious conver- 
sation been perverted ! It has been worn as a mask 
by hypocrisy. It has cherished and manifested the 
complacency of spiritual pride. It has served as a 
vehicle for denunciation and anathematizing to big- 
otry and intolerance. It has fostered the religion 
of the fancy, cold in heart and powerless in con- 
duct. 

But, though the instrument has been abused, it 
is not in itself the less valuable. How pure and 
soothing, how noble and elevating, are the themes 
with which religion is conversant ! 

What is there in the whole range of intellectual 
and moral speculation with which religion may not 
be united, and on which the conversation of the 
pious may not with propriety and advantage dwell ? 

1 Let them that fear the Lord,' then, ' speak often 
one to another ' on these delightful themes. Let 
them dwell on the goodness by which every creature 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



103 



of God is blessed ; on the love which remembered 
them in their lost estate, and provided a ransom for 
them ; on ' the liberty wherewith Christ has made 
his people free.' By the interchange of pious senti- 
ments, let them kindle in each other's breasts a 
brighter flame of piety. 

In the domestic circle, in the confidential hour, 
let religion haA r e its place. Let them speak to one 
another of God and heaven, whom God has united 
in the closest and tenderest ties. If in every other 
good they delight to share with each other; if in 
every other sorrow they seek from each other support 
and consolation ; Oh, let them not refuse to share 
in the joys of religion, or to seek for its assistance 
and sympathy in their doubts and difficulties ! Let 
the heads and members of families, — let friends and 
acquaintance ' take counsel together ' in those pur- 
suits which are to prepare them for eternity. 

Conversation has great influence upon conduct. 
' Let us consider one another,' says the apostle, 1 to 
provoke to love and good works.' It is easy to 
stir up selfishness and wrath by the tongue, and by 
the same instrument we may provoke to benefi- 
cence. There are principles of benevolence which, 
in young minds, may be cherished and drawn forth 
by presenting kind and compassionate views ; by 
combating ungenerous and cruel maxims ; by ap- 
proving and ripening plans of usefulness. We are 
not to boast of alms, but, by mutual consultation, 
advice is obtained ; incitement is given ; proper ob- 
jects are discovered, and imposition is detected; 



104 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 



knowledge in the doctrine of alms is increased ; the 
heart is enlarged, and generous affections kindled. 
Ordinary conversation is very properly seasoned 
with the praise of goodness. Indignation at vice 
may be tinged with personal animosity, but the 
love and praise of virtue indicates ' pure and un- 
dented religion.' 

Some who cannot give much alms may persuade 
the rich to give. Wisdom, and eloquence, and in- 
fluence of every kind, are worthily exerted in the 
cause of charity. 

But I must not forget to say that ' for every thing 
there is a season.' "We are at all seasons to be 
religious ; but there are tim^s when religious topics 
may not be well introduced. Our Saviour teaches 
us this, when he says ' Give not that which is holy 
to the dogs ; ' ' Cast not your pearls before swine, 
lest they trample them under their feet, and turn 
again and rend you.' 

Whilst the Christian should watch for oppor- 
tunities to advance the cause of religion, he should 
be careful not to expose it to the ribaldry of profane- 
ness, or the sneer of folly. 

My hearers, I have said that religion is all im- 
portant ; and I trust in saying this I have a testi- 
mony to the truth of the assertion in the conviction 
of every mind. Would that I might say in the 
feeling of every heart ! 

I have said, too, that the time is coming when 
all other subjects will have lost their power to 
interest us. It will be happy for us if our spirits 



RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 105 

can then be revived and animated by the words of 
affectionate piety ; if the heart from which the tide 
of life is ebbing, can rest on that anchor which is 
sure and steadfast. It will be happy indeed if we 
can enjoy the soothing reflection that, amid all that 
was frivolous, and unprofitable, and sinful in the 
world, ' we have had our conversation in heaven.' 



106 



SERMON XYI. 



GOD ALL-SUFFICIENT ON EARTH AND IN HEAVEN. 
Psalm lxxiii. 25. — whom have i in heaven but thee ? and there 

IS NONE UPON EARTH THAT I DESIRE BESIDE THEE. 

These are strong expressions. Is it right, — is it 
possible, that we should adopt them ? Though we 
should doubtless love God supremely ; are there not 
many on earth whom we should love beside Him ? 
Are there not many in heaven, — spirits of the 
just made perfect, — to whom our thoughts may 
turn, — must turn, with fondest interest and af- 
fection ? 

The Author of our nature does not forbid the 
exercise of its kindly and social affections. He 
who implanted them has taught us to cherish them ; 
and has presented us with other objects than Him- 
self, on whom they may be placed. 

I know not the precise state of feeling in which 
the words of the text were uttered. The 
Psalmist had found treachery in his friend, sftid 
ingratitude in the son whom he loved. He was 
< plagued,' to use his own expression, ' all the day 
long.' 



GOD ALL-SUFFICIENT, ETC. 



107 



It may have been from the depth of human 
vanity, and vexation, that his heart ascended to 
God. It may have been with a feeling of weariness 
and disgust with every thing about him, and in a 
spirit somewhat querulous, that he said, ' There is 
none on earth that I desire beside Thee.' 

I believe, however, that it was in a moment of 
glowing and rapturous devotion ; when, feeling the 
want of earthly comforts, he found a sufficiency in 
God. ' In Thy presence is fulness of joy.' ' Thou 
art able to supply all my need.' ' With thee I shall 
not want ; I have ^enough.' 4 Whom have I in 
heaven but Thee ? and there is none on earth whom 
I desire beside Thee.' 

The passage is sometimes rendered in comparison 
with Thee. But the expression is faint and feeble. 
The original implies much more. 

If we were bereft of every object that is dear to 
us on earth, it would be sad, and heart-rending 
indeed. We might be ready to say, in the prospect 
of it, that the trial would be greater than we could 
bear ; — that we could find no compensation for the 
loss. But, if we acquainted ourselves with God, 
we should be at peace. In the sense of His pres- 
ence, and the enjoyment of His favor, our loss 
would be supplied. 

This is not conjecture. How often have we 
seen it exemplified ! The earthly cords of affection, 
one after another have been broken ; and the devout, 
confiding, rejoicing spirit, has been able to say, 
< Although the fig-tree should not blossom and 



109 



GOD ALL-SUFFICIENT ON 



there should be no fruit in the vine, yet will I 
rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of my 
salvation.' ' Though He slay me, yet will I trust 
in Him.' We have seen it most fully and clearly 
and impressively, on the bed of death ; when faith, 
leaning upon that anchor which ' enters within the 
veil,' was enjoying a foretaste of heaven; when 
every thing here has been relinquished ; when the 
last passion that warms a mother's heart, — love 
and solicitude for her children, — has been subdued ; 
has been absorbed, — if I may say so, — in the love 
of God; when one idea has seemed to fill the 
mind, one affection to engross the soul ; ' Whom 
have I in heaven but Thee, and there is none upon 
earth that I desire beside Thee ? ' 

But, if we might find a consolation in the pres- 
ence and favor of God for every loss, how would it 
be if we were bereft of God ? What would be 
our condition if every thing else were left to us, 
and God were taken from us ? They who now 
appear to have little regard for His presence and 
favor, — were it possible for' them to exist without 
Him, would have a sense of destitution of which 
they can now have no conception ; and they who 
have been accustomed to rejoice in His presence, 
would feel that all that was left, was utterly value- 
less. ' There is none upon earth that I desire 
beside Thee.' God can supply the loss of every 
thing', but nothing can supply the loss of God. 

As it is on earth, so it is in heaven. There could 
be no such place as heaven without God. Where 



EARTH AND IN HEAVEN. 



109 



God is, there is heaven. It is His presence, — 
however inferior streams of happiness may refresh 
us, — it is His presence which constitutes that 
c river of pleasure ' which was seen by the apostle, 
in his vision, as proceeding from the throne of God. 
How unwise, then, how mad are they who substi- 
tute inferior objects, for God ; who fix on the 
creature those regards which are due to the Creator ; 
who are seeking at 'broken cisterns' what can only 
be found at the Fountain of living waters ! How un- 
wise are they ? how regardless of their true interests, 
who are taking for their portion that which cannot 
satisfy them ; that of which a thousand accidents 
may deprive them ; that, with which, without God, 
they cannot be truly happy ; and which, if a pure, 
legitimate source of enjoyment, should lead them 
up to Him, the Fountain whence it flows; — to Him 
with whose nature are essentially connected all the 
qualities, that can engage the heart; and all the 
perfections of power and wisdom and goodness, 
on which they may repose with perfect confidence. 

And if they are unwise and regardless of their 
true interests, who are suffering the objects on 
which their affections may be lawfully placed, to 
engross their hearts, what shall we say of those who 
are seeking their happiness in that which is opposed 
to God ; who are not only neglecting the 4 Fountain 
of living waters,' but are drinking deep from the 
springs which sin has poisoned ? — The charm will 
soon be broken. The idols to which the heart has 

VOL. II. 10 



110 



GOD ALL-SUFFICIENT, ETC. 



been knit, will soon appear in their true light ; and 
what will then remain ? 

In the possession of health and spirits, all 
this may do, and no great want may be felt, 
and no serious evil apprehended; but there is a 
certain hour which one would wish ' all undis- 
turbed and bright,' and that is when we die ; when 
we go hence ne'er to be seen again ; the hour 
when ' heart and strength shall fail.' Where 
then are all the sources of gratification with which 
the sinner contented himself while in health? 
Where are they when * the earthly house of this 
tabernacle is dissolved,' and the immortal soul is 
separated from this scene forever ? Where are they 
when the spirit has entered into eternity, and 
there is nothing but his sins to come between the 
sinner and his God ? — It is for the imagination only 
to portray that scene. God grant that, to us, 

THERE MAY BE NOTHING REAL ! 



Ill 



SERMON XVII. 



THE EYE OF GOD ALWAYS UPON US. 
Genesis xvi. 13. thou god seest me. 

When Moses delivered the law of God to the 
people of Israel, who were assembled at the foot of 
Mount Sinai, he spake with all the authority which 
resulted from the presence of the Law-giver. He 
could point to the mountain and say ' Behold the 
glory which manifests the presence of the Most 
High.' 

The effect was instantaneous and irresistible, — 
however transient. A response was heard from the 
whole congregation, 'All the Lord hath spoken, we 
will do.' 

And such would doubtless be the effect, my hear- 
ers, if the visible presence of God should fill this 
place, and bring home to the hearts of the worship- 
pers the solemn truth on which we are now medi- 
tating. 

If that Eye which is never closed, but which is 
every moment directing its piercing glance at every 
heart, were now seen in its infinite brightness, pen- 
etrating the recesses of our hearts in this season of 
our apparent devotion, how powerful, how irresisti- 
ble the influence ! 



112 THE EYE OF GOD ALWAYS UPON US. 

Divest yourselves in imagination, for a moment, 
of this veil of flesh and blood that surrounds you? 
and the idea becomes reality. 

The eye of the mind discerns the presence of a 
Spirit filling this sanctuary. That spirit is God. 

To the mental vision, an Eye appears of infinite 
brightness penetrating the recesses of every heart. 
That Eye is God's. 

Let us open our minds to the influence of these 
reflections. 

1. We have come hither to worship. Let each 
one repeat to his own heart, " 4 Thou God seest me.' 
If there is an altar within me devoted to thy wor- 
ship ; if the wood is laid, and £he sacrifice prepared, 
and the fire .kindled, Thou knowest it. If there is 
no altar there, and no sacrifice, and no flame of de- 
votion, it is equally known to Thee. I may de- 
ceive others, I may deceive myself, but Thee I 
cannot deceive. Whilst I believe in Thy presence, 
may I feel its influence ; that my thoughts may be 
pure ; my feelings devout, and my purposes holy ; 
so that this which is ' none other than the house of 
God,' may prove indeed to me ' the gate of heaven.' " 

2. We are to leave this place, and mingle again 
in the avocations of the world. Let us carry with 
us, and keep with us, the awful idea which now 
occupies our minds. Let it be a 4 light to our path, 
and a lamp to our feet,' to keep us from every false 
and evil way. 

In transacting the business of life, let each one 
say to himself, " 1 Thou God seest me.' If I am up- 



THE EYE OF GOD ALWAYS UPON US. 113 

right in my intentions, sincere in my discourse, 
faithful to my engagements, honest and conscien- 
tious in my dealings, it is known to Thee. If my 
purposes are sinful, and my words deceitful, if to 
my engagements I am faithless, and in my dealings 
dishonest, it is equally known to Thee. I may de- 
ceive others, but Thee I cannot deceive. I may 
take advantage of my neighbor's ignorance, and of 
the confidence he reposes in me. I may reap the 
reward in unrighteous, ill-gotten gain, but what 
will it avail me ? In every purpose of my heart ; in 
every word I have uttered ; in every deed I have 
done, the Eye of God was upon me, and a fearful 
retribution awaits me." 

And if such were the reflections of every heart 
in every moment, and in every place, they would 
have their foundation in nothing else than truth, 
As surely as there is a God who created all things, 
so surely must He be always present with the 
things He has made. 4 He that planted the ear, 
must hear ; He that formed the eye, must see.' He 
whose almighty inspiration gave man understand- 
ing, must know ; and He will not suffer the workers 
of iniquity to go unpunished. 

In partaking of the enjoyments, no less than in 
transacting the business of life, the reflection, ' Thou 
God seest me,' should be ever present with us, to 
restrain us from sin, and keep us within the limits 
of rational and innocent enjoyment. 

We cannot hide ourselves from God. No, my 
young friends, — let it be early, and deeply, and ha- 
10* 



114 THE EYE OF GOD ALWAYS UPON US. 

bitually impressed on your minds, — that you cannot 
hide yourselves from God. 

When the eye of parental tenderness and affec- 
tion is not upon you, the Eye of God is upon 
you. You may deceive your parents, but you can- 
not deceive your God. If you are idle and vicious, 
profane and irreligious, nay, if one evil thought is 
admitted, one wicked word uttered, one sinful 
action performed, He as surely beholds it, as if 
you could discern Him without you, or be conscious 
to His presence within you. All your thoughts and 
words and actions are open before Him. 

Never indulge any thought, then, you would be 
unwilling He should know. Never speak any word 
you would be unwilling He should hear. Never per- 
form any action you would be unwilling He should 
witness. When tempted to do wrong, call up to 
mind the words of the text, ' Thou God seest me,' 
to fortify your minds and keep you from sin. Be 
virtuous and good, and God, who sees you, will 
love and bless you. 

My text is in itself a sermon. It is a lesson of 
instruction in four words. But, short as it is, if it 
has its proper influence upon us, it will effect all 
that religion is designed to effect. 

Carry it home with you, my hearers. Preach it 
to yourselves here and every where ; in your busi- 
ness and recreations ; in your intercourse with others 
and in your solitary communion with your own 
hearts ; and in that day when the secrets of all 
hearts are revealed, may it be manifest that it has 
not been preached in vain ! 



115 



SERMON XVIII. 



THE DEVOUT SPIRIT ALWAYS WITH GOD. 
Psalms cxxxix. 18. — when i awake i am still with thee. 

In this chapter the Psalmist, with great sublimity 
and beauty of language, describes the omnipres- 
ence and omniscience of God. ' O Lord, thou hast 
searched me and known me. Thou knowest my 
down-sitting and uprising, thou understandest my 
thoughts afar off. "Whither shall I go from Thy spirit, 
or flee from Thy presence? If I ascend up into 
heaven, Thou art there ; if I make my bed in hell, 
behold, Thou art there. If I take the wings of the 
morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 
even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right 
hand shall hold me. If I say, surely the darkness 
shall cover me ; even the night shall be light about 
me ; the darkness and the light are both alike to 
Thee.' 'Thou hast beset, me behind and before, 
and laid Thy hand upon me. Thou understandest 
my thoughts afar off. Thou compassest my path 
and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my 



116 



THE DEVOUT SPIRIT 



ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but 
Thou, O Lord, knowest it altogether.' 

The transition from the omnipresence and omnis- 
cience, to the care and kindness of God, is natural, 
and tire Psalmist does not fail to make it. ' How 
precious, also, are Thy thoughts unto me, O God ! 
How great is the sum of them ! If I should count 
them, they are more in number than the sand.' 
WJien I awake, I am still with thee! 

The language of the text is the language of 
devotion ; — of a soul alive to its dependence upon 
God, and rejoicing in a sense of His presence. It 
is the language of trust and reliance; of security 
and humble confidence. It is the language of one 
who is conscious of his own nearness to God, 
whilst he is sensible that God is near. £ When I 
awake, I am still with thee.' Thy presence ever 
surrounds me. Thy watchful care is ever ex- 
tended over me. ' By day Thou dost uphold my 
steps.' ' By night Thou dost watch around my bed. 
Thou encompassest my path, and my lying down.' 
I sleep, and Thou dost guard my defenceless head. 
I awake, and lo ! Thou art still with me. I inhale 
Thy air, I am cheered by the pleasant light and 
genial influence of Thy sun. I rejoice again to be, 
and to be with my Father, — my God. 

Such is the language of the text. It is the 
language of every pious mind. My hearers, is it 
ours ? The presence of God at all times surrounds 
us. Are we sensible of it? — do we rejoice in it? 
The Providence of God is ever exercised for our 



ALWAYS WITH GOD. 



117 



protection and comfort. Do we realize it? Are we 
grateful for it ? 

We 1 go forth to our work, and our labor, till the 
evening.' We return to rest in the bosom of our 
family. 

Our neighbor goes forth like ourselves, high in 
health, elate with hope; but he returns not, like 
ourselves, to partake of the joys of home. A fatal 
accident occurs, — sudden, unforeseen, — and if he 
returns at all, he returns but to die. The snares of 
death are always laid. The emissaries of death 
are ever in ambush. Our neighbor has been 
insnared and is the victim. We have escaped. 
My hearers, we escape every day, — every moment. 
Our whole life is but an escape from the innu- 
merable dangers which surround us. 

At the end of every day's journey, do we erect a 
monument to the mercy of God ? At the close of 
every day, do we surround the family altar, and 
offer the sacrifice of praise ? 

Heads of families! I appeal to you. Do you 
call your family together, and unite with them 
in thanksgiving ? Is there an altar in your house 
inscribed with the name of Jehovah? Every 
evening is the wood laid, and the fire kindled, 
for the evening sacrifice ? 

My hearers of every description! I appeal to 
you. Does the retirement of the closet, — the 
chamber, — witness your evening devotions? Does 
no day close upon you unsanctified by prayer ? Is 
there an altar in your hearts, and is the flame always 
alive and burning? 



118 



THE DEVOUT SPIRIT 



By night, as well as by day, we are protected by 
the watchful providence of God. We commit 
ourselves to sleep, and sleep securely ; for He, who 
' never slumbers or sleeps,' has watched over us, 
and shielded us from harm. 

Our neighbor, like ourselves, has resigned himself 
to sleep, but not, like us, to awake and inhale the 
breath of the morning, and see the light, and feel 
the influence of the sun! His eyes are closed in a 
long, long night. He sleeps the sleep of death. 
The arrow is ever flying by night ; the pestilence is 
ever walking in darkness. Our neighbor has 
become the victim. We have escaped. Do we 
open our eyes to raise them in devout thankfulness 
to heaven ? Do we lift our voices to send them 
up in songs of praise ? At the beginning of every 
day do we surround the family altar and offer the 
morning sacrifice ? 

Heads of families ! I again appeal to you. Do 
you call your families together and remind them of 
God's goodness, and unite with them in thanks- 
giving ? 

Have not your families shared with you in the 
care of a watchful Providence ? Did you separate, 
uncertain what would be the issue of a night ? 
Do you meet again to reciprocate the salutations of 
a new day, and do you not meet to recognize and 
acknowledge the goodness and mercy that has 
preserved and blessed you ? 

My hearers of every description ! I appeal to you. 
Does the retirement of the morning witness your 



ALWAYS WITH GOD. 



119 



devotions? Does no day dawn upon you unsanc- 
tioned by prayer? Do you never venture forth to 
encounter the hazards that beset your path, without 
seeking the protection and guidance of an Almighty 
Protector, and an unerring Guide ? 

When we look forward at the commencement of 
a new day, all is uncertainty. It is a sealed book, 
whose pages God only can unfold. 

It may be full of the most important and inter- 
esting events to us. It may decide our fortunes for 
time. It may fix our fate through eternity. 

How much may be enjoyed, and ah, how much 
may be suffered, in a single day ! How many 
bright prospects may be darkened! How many 
fond expectations disappointed; how many affec- 
tionate attachments dissolved! How many blos- 
soms of hope may be withered ; how many 
buds of promise may be closed forever in this 
world ! 

A single day has opened a source of joy, or of 
sorrow, which has continued its streams through 
life. In one hour, a man has incurred a disgrace 
which time could never wipe off. In one moment, 
the thread of life has been broken, and the transi- 
tion into eternity made. 

How many have entered on a new day with 
their cup overflowing, and their prospects of futurity 
clear and unclouded. How often, ere the evening, 
have the notes of joy been exchanged for the voice 
of lamentation, and ' the garment of praise for the 
spirit of heaviness ! ' 



120 



THE DEVOUT SPIRIT 



Who is there, then, among us, so thoughtless, so 
unwise, as to enter on the duties, the temptations, 
the difficulties and dangers of a day, without com- 
mending himself to God ; imploring his protection, 
assistance, and guidance ? Who is there that will 
not feel himself compelled by every motive of duty, 
and of interest, to adopt and practise the resolution 
of the Psalmist, ' My voice shalt thou hear in the 
morning, O Lord. In the morning will I direct my 
prayer unto Thee, and will look up.' 

When I awake, 1 am still with Thee.' 

The little child reposes in perfect security on the 
bosom of its parent. It awakes ; looks up ; finds 
itself still guarded by a parent's eye; still upheld 
by a parent's arm ; and quietly resigns itself to sleep 
again. 

To us, weak and defenceless creatures, that 
parent's eye, is the eye of God. That parent's 
arm, is the arm of God. ' We look up, and find 
ourselves still with Him.' 

And are we re ally with Him ? Are we with Him 
in spirit, — in truth ? 

God may be with us, our Protector ; our Bene- 
factor ; and we may be far from Him. ' The wicked 
are far from God.' 

' He maketh his sun to shine, and His rain to 
descend ' on the evil and the good ; on the thankful 
and the unthankful ; but He is only nigh, in His 
favor and love, to those who fear Him, and ' call upon 
Him in truth.' We may share in His protection, 
and be excluded from His favor. — Excluded from 



ALWAYS WITH GOD, - 121 

His favor ! My hearers, in His favor is life ; and 
His ' loving-kindness is better than life.' Without 
it, all is darkness and despair. Destitute of the 
favor of God, we cannot be truly happy; and we 
cannot possess that favor, if our hearts are not with 
Him. 

Let us give Him our hearts. He vouchsafes to 
ask for them. And with how much tenderness ! 

I repeat. Let us give Him our hearts. Then, in 
the pilgrimage of life, we shall be secure of the pro- 
tection and favor of God; and though we must 
sleep, — and may soon sleep, — the sleep of death, 

yet WHEN WE AWAKE, WE SHALL BE STILL WITH HlM. 



VOL. II. 



11 



122 



SERMON XIX. 



DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 
Samuel i. 13, 14. — a man after god's own heart. 

These words, as you may remember, refer to 
David, the King and Psalmist of Israel. 

It is of him that it was said that he was 1 a man 
after God's own heart.' 

They are often quoted. Sometimes in testimony 
of the excellence of David's character; and as an 
excitement to the cultivation of those dispositions 
which are supposed to have given him favor in the 
sight of God. 

Sometimes this passage is quoted for a very 
different purpose. It has furnished a weapon for 
infidelity to assail the truth of revelation. The 
apparent inconsistency between some portions of 
the conduct of David, and the declaration in the 
text, has been pointed out, and dwelt upon with 
no little satisfaction. The complicated guilt of 
David has been brought up to view in all its 
enormity ; and the question emphatically asked, " Is 
this the man after God's own heart? Can he 



DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 123 

who was guilty of such atrocious wickedness, have 
been regarded with complacency by Infinite Purity 
and Holiness? Did not the blood of Uriah 'cry 
from the ground,' and did not the cry come up into 
the ears of the Eternal ? Vengeance indeed slept, 
and did not pour out the vials of its wrath upon 
the devoted head of the offender, but can it be be- 
lieved, that not mercy only, but love, came in to 
take its place ? " 

There are no weapons used by infidelity, of what- 
ever nature, that may not be blunted and rendered 
harmless by truth and reason. 

If an answer has not been given to these inquiries, 
it is because no attention has been paid to the time 
and the circumstances in which the words of the 
text were used. It was long before the period to 
which an allusion has just been made, that David 
was styled, in relation to God, 1 a man after His 
own heart? It was when he dwelt in simplicity 
and humble obscurity in Bethlehem ; the keeper 
of his father's sheep. It was while he was yet a 
youth, in the house of his parents, unexposed to 
the dangers of prosperity, and the seductions of 
power. 

In his external appearance, as it is described in 
the simple language of Scripture, he was ' ruddy, 
and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly 
to look to,' and we have reason to think that there 
was a correspondence with this, in the features of 
his mind. 

If we looked no further, then, for a solution of 



124 DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 

this difficulty, we might find it here. It might be 
said of David in the sheepcote, if not of David on 
the throne, that he was £ a man after God's own 
heart.' But an attention to the occasion on which 
these words were used will furnish a satisfactory 
explanation of them. 

They do not refer to the private virtues of David, 
but to his public conduct. They stand in opposi- 
tion to the character of Saul, who is described as 
acting 'foolishly,' and who was deprived of his 
kingdom for his disobedience to the commandment 
of God. 1 But now,' said the prophet to him, 4 thy 
kingdom shall not continue. The Lord hath sought 
Him a man after his own heart,' or, as it may be 
rendered, 1 who will perform His will,' — ' and the 
Lord hath commanded him to be captain over this 
people ; because thou hast not kept that which the 
Lord commanded thee.' 

Saul was rejected because 'he did not perform 
the will of God,' as king of Israel. David was 
chosen, or was £ a man after God's own heart,' be- 
cause he would perform that will. 

And he did so. He maintained a strict adhe- 
rence to the civil and religious laws of his country ; 
did not permit idolatry ; and in all his public, offi- 
cial conduct, acted in accordance with the mind 
and will of God, and was thus a man after His 
own heart. 

In reference to his private, or personal moral con- 
duct, the words are never used. They are used 
only in reference to his conduct as a king ; to his 



DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 125 

moral fitness to carry into effect the peculiar pur- 
poses of Providence in regard to the Jewish people. 

Having said thus much in vindication of the 
text, let the moral character of David have been 
what it might, it is proper for me to remind you, 
that, great and aggravated as were his transgres- 
sions, they were expiated by his subsequent repent- 
ance and holiness. 

He had sinned dreadfully ; but he was dreadfully 
punished ; and was deeply penitent. His whole life 
afterwards was little else than a series of troubles ; 
and, as far as we can judge, was a life of peniten- 
tial sorrow and humiliation. He went 6 mourning 
all the day long,' and 'watered his couch with his 
tears.' 

His penitence, and his confident reliance upon the 
goodness and mercy of God, are the prominent and 
most excellent parts of his character. They appear 
in almost every page of his admirable writings. 

His psalms are the breathings of a truly contrite 
heart, and have furnished language for contrition, 
and solace for affliction, in almost every age. David, 
thankful for God's goodness and mercy ; David, 
pouring out his soul in the noblest strains of poetry 
and devotion that have ever been employed to raise 
the thoughts of the religious, and carry them up 
to God, is a very different man from the David 
who, in the beautiful language of Nathan's para- 
ble, had taken away the lamb which the poor man 
had nourished up; and who added the guilt of 
murder to his other crimes. He had awakened to a 
11* 



126 DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 

full consciousness of his guilt, and the tears of repent- 
ance had washed it away. He might now be re- 
garded with approbation and favor. As the Psalm- 
ist of Israel, he is holy. He who finds his heart 
kindled into the warmth and fervor of piety as he 
reads the Psalms, feels that their author is holy; 
that it is from the 1 abundance of the heart that the 
heart has indited.' 

In the passage we have been considering, we 
have an instance, — and such instances are of fre- 
quent occurrence, — of a single, isolated text pre- 
senting difficulties which an attention to the context, 
and the time and circumstances with which it was 
connected, would entirely remove. 

The selection of David to be king of Israel, and 
the rejection of the house of Saul, are a striking 
illustration of the importance of obedience to the 
commands of God. — ' Behold to obey is better 
than sacrifice. Because thou hast rejected the word 
of the Lord, and hast not kept the commandment 
of the Lord, which He commanded thee, He hath 
also rejected thee from being king.' 

The fall and tho penitence of David, are alike 
instructive to us, — the danger of prosperity and 
elevation, and the efficacy of repentance. In the 
faithful admonition of the prophet to the king, we 
are reminded that as no such messenger will come 
to us as came to him, we have within us a monitor 
which, if it be not stifled or seared, will, on every 
occasion, tell us honestly 4 Thou art the man ! ' To 
this monitor, enlightened as it should be, by the 



DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 127 

word of God, — let us at all times listen ; and may 
God give us grace to attend to its warning voice ; 
so that if we have wandered, we may be recalled 
to the path of duty, and be reconciled through re- 
pentance, and the mediation of Jesus Christ, to 
the mercy of God. 



128 



SERMON XX. 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 
Colossians iii. 3. — your life is hid. 

The hidden life of a Christian is his spiritual 
life ; the life in which he is devoted to God ; to the 
purposes of heaven and eternity. It is the same 
which, in some parts of Scripture, is called £ eter- 
nal,' for it survives the animal life, and, with the 
immortal spirit, retains its vitality forever. Like 
the animal life, it is the same principle in its infancy 
and its maturity ; but, unlike that, its infancy is on 
earth, and its maturity in heaven. 

Thus, the spiritual life is eternal life commenced ; 
and eternal life is the spiritual life perfected. 

1. It is hidden because its existence is in the 
heart. The springs by which it is moved, the prin- 
ciples and motives by which it is animated, are 
concealed from view; — from the view of all but 
Him in whom it is said to be hidden ; who is its 
source, and the only witness of its sincerity. 

Further. It is hidden, because the means by which 
it is chiefly sustained and invigorated are concealed 
from view. The objects on which it fixes its atten- 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 129 

tion, and from which it draws its nourishment, are 
invisible. God the Author of the spiritual life, — 
the Source of its strength and happiness, is invisi- 
ble. Faith fixes its view upon Him, and discerns 
his perfections ; but ' mortal eye hath not seen, nor 
can see Him.' Christ, 'the Author and finisher 
of its faith,' is invisible. The Holy Spirit, that 
Divine Influence which operates on the heart, is 
invisible. The influence is felt, but is visible only 
in the effects. Angels, and the spirits of the just 
made perfect, after whose intercourse it aspires ; 
the good, whom it knew, and loved and honored 
on earth, but who live on earth only in the remem- 
brance, are invisible ; and the hope of a reunion is 
one of the instruments by which the spiritual life is 
sustained. Heaven, the end of its wishes, the frui- 
tion of its hopes, is invisible. ' Eye hath not seen, 
nor ear heard, nor hath the heart of man conceived, 
the joys which God hath prepared for them that 
love Him.' 

The acts and exercises, by ivhich the spiritual life 
is maintained, are concealed from view. The self- 
communion by which the Christian enters into the 
secret chambers of the heart ; meditation, by which 
he contemplates earth and heaven, — 'the things 
that are seen, and the things that are not seen ; ' 
reading, the study of that word whose ' entrance 
giveth life ; ' prayer, without which the principle of 
holiness cannot subsist ; without which the chris- 
tian life must languish and die. All these are secret, 
hidden from public observation, and in the use of 
these, the life of a Christian is a hidden life. 



130 THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 

Secret and hidden, too, are the struggles which a 
Christian has when inclination is opposed to duty ; 
the conflict in which he is perpetually engaged with 
the world and sin. 

Further. The spiritual life may be said to be 
1 hidden ' even when it is visible, because it is unos- 
tentatious and unobtrusive. It is ' clothed with 
humility,' seeks not to attract notice, but rather 
shuns it; does not desire 'to be seen of men,' 
except in as far as its influence may be useful ; and 
is satisfied, if it is only seen of its God. 

It is in these respects, — among others, — that 
the spiritual life is hidden, viz., Its existence is in 
the heart from which ' are the issues of life.' The 
means by which it is sustained, the objects of its 
devout contemplation, and the exercises in which 
it engages, are concealed and hidden. It is unos- 
tentatious ; and rather retires from public observa- 
tion than courts it. It is hidden, in some sense, as 
it pursues its even course, fulfilling in silence its 
appropriate duties ; diffusing around it the tranquil- 
lity and peace which itself enjoys. It is in some 
sense hidden, as in the parent or child, the brother 
or sister, the wife or mother, in the retirement of 
domestic life, it is faithful to the calls of duty, with 
no other motive than the approbation of conscience 
and of God. And yet it is not hidden, for there 
are those who mark it, and pay it the homage 
which is due to its modest worth. There are hearts 
which feel its value, and yield it the tribute of warm 
affection. The circle in which its labors of love 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 131 

and duty are performed, which it has enlightened, 
and cheered, and made better, by its influence, 
acknowledges and blesses that influence as it enjoys 
its benefits. 

Lastly. In the hour of dissolution, — when death 
is performing its work, — its sad work, — of destruc- 
tion, and is obtaining the victory over the animal 
life, — the frail and mortal body, — the spiritual life 
is hidden. 

It may be hidden by the veil which death is 
drawing over the senses, and if not, the world is 
shut out, and comes not in to disturb 'the holy 
quiet that reigns within.' But yet, even here, it is 
not hidden. There are those who have gathered 
round the bed of death, as they smoothed the bed 
of sickness, and whose privilege it is to behold 
the patience and pious resignation of the meek 
spirit that bows to drink the cup which may not 
pass ; to witness the triumph of life over death ; of 
the undying soul welcoming the ' king of terrors ' 
as a messenger of peace ; and, as heaven opens on 
its view, adopting the exulting exclamation of the 
apostle, 'O death, where is thy sting? O grave, 
where is thy victory ? ' — And now, indeed, it is hid- 
den. It is invisible as the God whom it adored, 
and with whom it has gone to dwell. It is invisi- 
ble as the Saviour whom it loved and followed. It 
is invisible as that company of the blessed to whose 
intercourse it had often looked forward with ardent 
expectation. It is invisible as the heaven on which 
the eye of its faith had long been fixed, and of the 



132 THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 

fulness of whose joy it now partakes. 4 A cloud 
has received it out of sight.' It can never live on 
earth again, but in the memory of those who loved 
it here, and in the hearts and lives of those who 
were blessed and benefited by its labors, its exam- 
ple and its prayers. There may it ever live, enjoy- 
ing on earth and in heaven the same recompense of 
reward ! 



133 



SERMON XXI. 



A GOOD MAN. 

A CHARA CTER.* 
[Concluding part of a Sermon.] 
ActS ii. 24. — BARNABAS WAS A GOOD MAN. 

In the early history of Christianity we have many 
illustrations, beside the one I have now described to 
you, of its benign influence in the lives of its pro- 
fessors. 

They furnish a powerful attestation to its truth 
in the exhibition they give of its efficacy. 

The tree is known by its fruit; and no better 
evidence can be desired of the truth of our religion 
than is found in its effects where it has been sin- 
cerely and heartily received. "When it has stamped 
upon the character the image of its own loveliness, 
they must be blind, indeed, who do not perceive 
that the portraiture is divine. 

A character so excellent as that of him whom my 
text commemorates, is comparatively rare ; but there 
are those, in all times, whose privilege it is to pos- 



VOL. II. 



* Isaac Smith, A. M. 
12 



134 



A GOOD MAN. 



sess much of that fulness of the Holy Ghost, and 
of faith, which he enjoyed. 

They seem to have been given, that there might 
not be wanting, in any period, an exhibition of the 
best influences of Christian truth. 

They are lights in the world, burning with a pure 
and steady flame, and diffusing around them the 
mild lustre of Christian virtue. They are the salt 
of the earth, preserving in its purity c the faith once 
delivered to the saints,' amidst the corruptions of a 
sinful world. We have seen them reflecting the 
light of their example in every condition of life. 

I should do violence to my own feelings, and in- 
justice to the living and the dead, if I did not say 
that, in my belief, it has been our privilege, for a 
series of years, to mingle our prayers, in this place, 
with the prayers of as pure and devout a spirit as, 
since the days of the apostles, has breathed a prayer 
to heaven. 

I have known many good men. I have never 
known a better man than that revered and beloved 
servant of God who was accustomed to worship 
with us here, but has now gone to worship with 
the spirits of the just made perfect. 

It is due to him as a minister of religion; it is 
due to him as having often officiated at this altar ; 
it is due to him as one of the purest and best of 
beings ; that the praise should be spoken now which 
his modesty would have shrunk from hearing, but 
which, even in his humility, he was constantly utter- 
ing in the emphatic language of a spotless life. 



A GOOD MAN. 



135 



I have been intimately conversant with him for 
many years, and more especially since he became 
a member of this parish ; and at no time have I 
seen in him a deviation, in word or action, from 
that strict propriety of conduct which became the 
sacred office. 

There was a singleness of heart ; a refinement 
and delicacy of sentiment ; a tenderness and gentle- 
ness of spirit ; a beautiful simplicity and uniformity 
of deportment, which conciliated the regard of all 
who knew him ; and rendered him an object of 
peculiar interest and affection to those who enjoyed 
his friendship. 

With a mind enriched by reading and observation, 
the study of books and of men, his conversation was 
in a high degree entertaining and instructive. 

Retaining to the last much of his youthful feel- 
ings, and adapting himself most readily, — as he 
delighted to do, — to the feelings of the young, he 
did not fail to find his way to their hearts. 

The experience of my own domestic circle can 
testify how much he endeared himself by these 
traits of character to which I have referred; how 
fondly his visits were welcomed, and how sincere 
was the regret when they were terminated. 

In these days of theological contention, when 
Christians, in their zeal for their systems, so often 
lose the spirit of religion, he pursued his peaceful 
way; expressing, indeed, now and then, as far as 
his gentle spirit would allow, his disapprobation of 
bigotry and uncharitableness, but breathing kind- 
ness and good-will to all. 



136 



A GOOD MAN. 



In early life, after having held an important office 
in our university, he went abroad, and was led by 
circumstances to take the charge of a small congre- 
gation at Sidmouth, in England ; where he was 
much beloved, and his intercourse sought and valued 
by the neighboring clergy of all denominations, some 
of whom were among the most eminent men of 
then* day, and by the most respectable among the 
laity. 

He was in the vicinity of a considerable city ; 
and the town in which he lived was a watering- 
place, and much frequented. 

He is still remembered there by the few who re- 
main, after the lapse of half a century, with lively 
and affectionate interest. 

On his return to his native country, he received 
a second appointment at the college, and was after- 
wards, successively, the head of an ancient seminary 
of learning, and the minister at the alms-house in 
this city. 

He lived without reproach, honored and beloved. 
Calumny had not breathed upon his reputation, 
but all united in the testimony that i in him there 
was no guile.' 

His last days were soothed by the unwearied 
kindness of those to whom he was most nearly re- 
lated, and who deemed it a privilege to minister to 
his comfort ; to watch over him in the season of his 
decay, to smooth his dying pillow, and close his eyes 
in death. 

But more dear to him than the tender assiduities 



A GOOD MAN. 



137 



of affection were the sustaining promises and hopes 
of religion. 

When I quoted to him some of those delightful 
passages which, for so many ages, have calmed the 
apprehensions and mingled with the aspirations of 
the devout spirit, with much emphasis he would 
say, i They are very precious.' ' There are a thou- 
sand such.' 4 The Bible is full of them.' 

It was my privilege to hold with him the last 
conversation he was permitted to hold on earth, 
and to witness, as indeed I had often done, ' with 
what composure a Christian can die.' 

It had been said of him long since, by one who 
knew him well, — and it was hardly extravagant to 
say so, — that he wanted ' only wings, to ascend to 
heaven.' 

His disembodied spirit has been borne up, on 
angels' wings, to that blessed abode, and may now 
soar unfettered towards the Source of its blessed- 
ness, and fly unrestrained on its errands of love and 
mercy. 

May the contemplation of the character of this 
good man excite in us, with whom he has sus- 
tained so near a connection, a holy emulation. 

Whilst we look up, by faith, to mark his ascend- 
ing flight, may his spirit, as did that of the prophet 
on Elisha, descend and rest upon us ! 
12* 



138 



SERMON XXII. 



THE BENEDICTION OF THE SAVIOUR ON A WOMAN OF 
JUDEA ; AND A TRIBUTE TO WOMAN'S WORTHINESS. 

Matthew xxvi. 13. — wheresoever this gospel shall be preach- 
ed IN THE whole world, there shall also this which this 

WOMAN HAS DONE, BE TOLD AS A MEMORIAL OF HER. 

The history of the transaction referred to in the 
text, as recorded in the Gospels, is briefly this : 

As Jesus sat at meat in a house at Bethany, 
there came a woman with an alabaster box of very 
precious ointment, and in token of her reverence 
and affection, — a mode of expressing it common 
at the time, — poured it upon his head ; and anoint- 
ed his feet with the ointment. Her tears fell on 
his feet, and she wiped them away with the hair of 
her head. 

Some of the guests, — among them the traitor 
• disciple who afterwards, for a paltry consideration, 
betrayed his Master, — were offended at what ap- 
peared to them an extravagance, saying, ' Why 
was this waste of the ointment made ? It might 
have been sold for three hundred pence, and given 
to the poor.' Jesus, ever considerate and kind, 



A TRIBUTE TO WOMAN'S WORTHINESS. 139 

vindicated her conduct. 4 Why trouble ye the 
woman ? She hath wrought a good work on me. 
The poor ye have always with you, and when ye 
will, ye can do them good. But me ye have not 
alway. Verily I say unto you, wheresoever this 
gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there 
shall this which this woman has done, be told as a 
memorial of her.' 

This day, my hearers, is this Scripture fulfilled in 
our ears. It will be fulfilled in the ears of unnum- 
bered generations in distant ages. The guest, to 
whom this honor was done, was the Son of God. 
The gospel which has recorded it, is the gospel of 
God ; and as surely as this gospel 1 shall have free 
course,' and be preached throughout the world, so 
surely shall this prophetic declaration be verified, — 
so surely shall i this which this woman hath done, 
be told as a memorial of her.' 

Nor is this all. Her record is on high. i This that 
she hath done,' is written in ' the book of God's 
remembrance ; ' and when the judgment is set, and 
the books are opened before the throne of God, this 
deed that she hath done will be told of her before 
an assembled universe ; and the guest to whom her 
humble tribute of affection and gratitude was paid 
at an obscure house in a small village of Judea, 
now seated at the right hand of the throne, will 
again pronounce a benediction upon her. 

My hearers, I have related to you an instance of 
honorable conduct in a woman of Judea. It is but 
an exhibition of the character of her sex. It is but 



140 THE BENEDICTION OF THE SAVIOUR J 



one of innumerable instances of conduct which 
confer honor on woman, recorded in the annals of 
humanity. 

It was for that sex, fervently and unwaveringly, 
to manifest their reverence and affection for the Sa- 
viour of mankind through the whole of his life on 
earth. No dangers affrighted them. No difficul- 
ties discouraged them. 

It was in his adversity, indeed, that their affec- 
tion was most strikingly and emphatically mani- 
fested. When his path was darkest, they did not 
fear to tread in it. When the storm raged most 
violently, they did not shrink from exposing their 
unsheltered heads to the tempest. 

One, only, of his disciples returned from flight, to 
be with him in the closing scene of life. And how 
richly was he repaid in receiving the sacred trust 
bequeathed by filial piety in words that should 
sink deep into the heart of every child ! ' Behold 
thy mother ! ' 

But, when his faint-hearted disciples forsook 
him and fled, when they were ' scattered every 
one to his own,' as Jesus had predicted, women 
followed him, weeping, to the place of crucifixion. 
Nor was this all. As they were - found at the 
cross, so, with a 'love stronger than death,' they 
were found, also, ' very early in the morning at the 
sepulchre, with spices and ointments to embalm 
him.' 

In all times ; in savage and in civilized society ; 
the same noble, generous, humane, self-sacrificing 



A TRIBUTE TO WOMAN'S WORTHINESS. 141 

qualities have been manifested by them. In ac- 
tive duty, as well as in passive suffering, there is a 
patience and fortitude, a resolution and energy, — 
deriving strength from pressure, — for which we 
look in vain in the stronger sex. 

I have, sometimes heard that sex speak slight- 
ingly of woman. If they are sincere, I pity them. 
Do they forget the mother who nursed their infan- 
cy, and watched over them in health and sickness, 
by day and night, with a love and care which a 
mother only could know? Or the sister, whose 
pure and simple affection contributes so much to 
render home attractive and delightful ; or the holy 
love of a daughter in the care of aged, helpless pa- 
rents ; or the faithful constancy and attachment of 
a wife amidst the broken fortunes, broken health, 
and broken reputation of her husband ; sustaining 
those arms that, perhaps, had been raised to smite 
her, and moistening the parched lips that had been 
opened to curse her ? 

Wherever woman is found, she is an angel of 
mercy ; following the kind, sympathizing impulses 
of her nature, to the shame, too often, of the cold, 
calculating charity of man. 

It is worthy of notice that the only four pecu- 
niary bequests to this parish, of which I have 
information, are the testimonials of female piety. 
One of them, to the poor, from her whom all re- 
member as distinguished for all that is dignified 
and lovely in the female character.* Another from 



* Mrs, Eliot. 



142 THE BENEDICTION OF THE SAVIOUR ) 

that venerated woman whose recent death has left 
us poorer than her devise can compensate, by the 
loss of her example. 

It is by the request of the standing committee 
of the parish, that I announce to-day, in public, 
what has already been privately circulated, that 
Mrs. Elizabeth Derby, in addition to numerous 
other benefactions, has bequeathed to the Sunday 
School connected with the parish, seven hundred 
dollars, the interest to be appropriated towards the 
support of the school ; seven hundred dollars, the 
interest to be devoted to the relief of the aged poor 
in the parish ; and five thousand dollars, the inte- 
rest to be expended in such a manner as the exi- 
gencies of the parish may demand. 

The ancestors of Mrs. Derby were members of 
the parish at its formation. Here her fathers wor- 
shipped. Here she was herself consecrated to God 
in baptism, administered by Mayhew, who stands 
in the foremost rank among the departed ministers 
of our country. Here, during the ministry of the 
judicious and benevolent Howard, she first ful- 
filled her baptismal obligation to commemorate her 
Saviour ; and here, when the Providence of God 
permitted, she statedly and devoutly paid her vows 
in the morning and evening service. 

She ' loved the habitation of God's house.' She 
loved this house. It was associated with her dear- 
est recollections, and she had no wish to wan- 
der from it. Here, and here only, on the returning 
Sabbath, she felt it her duty and her privilege to 



A TRIBUTE TO WOMAN'S WORTHINESS. 143 

unite with her fellow Christians in Christian wor- 
ship. 

Nor was her fidelity to duty confined to a regular 
and devout observance of the institutions of reli- 
gion. It pervaded her whole life, and was exhib- 
ited in all her conduct. 

As a wife, how affectionate and devoted ! £ The 
heart of her husband did safely trust in her.' De- 
prived of his sight during a great part of the last 
years of his life, her tenderness and watchful care 
were peculiarly needful to him ; and they were 
faithfully and assiduously bestowed. She was his 
constant companion, watching him, and guiding 
his footsteps ; leaving him only, for brief periods, to 
perform acts of friendship or mercy. She strictly 
complied with the apostolic injunction to the mar- 
ried of her sex, to be 4 keepers at home.' 

When her husband was translated to a world 
where the inhabitant ' shall not say, I am sick,' 
she had leisure for more active and diffusive benefi- 
cence, and did not fail to improve it. Her ample 
fortune enabled her to gratify the wishes of her 
heart in benefactions to the poor. She gave only 
what belonged to her, and what, therefore, she 
had a right to give. She gave judiciously, and, 
therefore, not indiscriminately nor without investi- 
gation. 

As far as her attention to domestic duties, — 
which she never neglected, — would permit, she 
rendered her personal services to such of our public 
charitable institutions as it was appropriate for her 



144 THE BENEDICTION OF THE SAVIOUR; 

thus to aid. She was in the government of one 
of the most useful and interesting of them for seve- 
ral years ; and, from her good judgment and ex- 
perience, her cooperation and counsel were much 
valued. 

This excellent woman has passed away. She 
can no longer 1 go about doing good.' She can no 
longer join with us in worship in this house of our 
solemnities, which she loved so well. But she has 
gone to join with the blessed in the worship of 
4 a temple not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens.' 

Whilst we call up her virtues to remembrance, 
may her example of fidelity, hallowed as it now is 
by her death, be diligently followed out in our 
lives ! 

I have felt that it was demanded of me, in no- 
ticing so considerable a benefaction to us, to 
dwell thus much upon the character of our bene- 
factress. 

In the present nourishing state of the parish, 
there was no pressing demand for this legacy. But 
who can tell what shall be on the morrow ? And, 
even now, there are important objects to which it 
may be usefully devoted. Respecting the mode 
of appropriation, I have no anxiety. I only desire, 
— and the experience of the past warrants me in 
expecting it, — that no difference of opinion on this 
subject, may interrupt our harmony ; that this, 
which was designed as a blessing, may not prove a 
root of bitterness ; that the minority will readily 



A TRIBUTE TO WOMAN'S WORTHINESS. 145 

yield to the majority, as, on all questions heretofore, 
they have done ; and that we, and those who come 
after us, in all future time, — as it has been in the 
past, — may fully realize ' how good and pleasant it 
is for brethren to dwell together in unity.' 



VOL. II. 



13 



146 



SERMON XXIII. 



SUBMISSION. 

Job i. 21. — THE LORD GAVE AND THE LORD HATH TAKEN AWAY. 
BLESSED BE THE NAME OF THE LORD ! 

The language of the text is not less the language 
of reason than of piety. 

It recognizes God as the Author of our blessings ; 
intimates His right to dispose of them as He pleases ; 
and adores Him, both in His giving and taking 
away. 

He who uttered these words is presented to us as 
an instance of accumulated sufferings ; and as an 
example of patient acquiescence. 

Three successive messengers, and in rapid succes- 
sion, informed him of the loss of his property ; but it 
was not till the fourth came, and mingled in his 
cup the bitterest ingredient, bringing him the tidings 
of the death of his children, that he gave vent to 
his feelings. 

He then c opened his mouth ; ' but not to com- 
plain. ' The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken 
away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.' 

The Lord gave. He does not forget, in the 
midst of his sorrows, to acknowledge the goodness 



SUBMISSION. 



147 



of God in having bestowed the blessings he had 
lost. 

All his happiness in the enjoyment of them, all 
his anticipations of comfort in their continued pos- 
session, we may suppose came up to his mind, and 
furnished a subject of grateful recollection. 

' If I have had larger possessions than all the 
men of the East; if I have been the father of a 
numerous family ; the object of respect and defer- 
ence to the aged and to the young ; if the voice of 
health and joy has been heard in my dwelling, and, 
till now, no cloud has come over to darken the sun 
of my prosperity, it is God who -has made me thus 
to differ from others ; and though I am now stripped 
of all, I will not forget His past goodness, nor refuse 
to adore it.' 

The Lord hath taken away. 

In recognizing God as the source of his blessings, 
it was his privilege and comfort to discern the same 
Being as the author of his calamities. The Sa- 
beans and the Chaldeans had carried away his 
flocks ; fire had burnt up his substance ; and a 
wind from the wilderness had overthrown the house 
in which his children were assembled, and had de- 
stroyed them all. Yet he looked not to the enemy, 
the fire, or the tempest as the source of his misfor- 
tunes. He considered these as but instruments in 
the hands of Him 1 whose kingdom ruleth over all,' 
and ascending from second causes to the first Cause 
of ail things, devoutly exclaimed 4 the Lord hath 
taken away!' 



148 



SUBMISSION. 



' The same hand which bestowed my blessings 
hath removed them. I rejoice that I am not obliged 
to ascribe to chance or accident the evils that have 
befallen me. They have the same origin with my 
mercies. They are the appointments of Infinite 
Wisdom. They come from God. Blessed be the 
name of the Lord.'' 

Jt was no ordinary effort to maintain his firmness 
under the pressure of sudden and aggravated ca- 
lamity. It was a great effort to bend with submis- 
sion to the stroke. But how sublime the spectacle 
of this good man lifting his eyes to heaven in 
devout thankfulness, and blessing- the hand that 
corrected him. Blessed be the name of the Lord. 

' I bless God,' — so we may interpret this lan- 
guage, — ' for what I have possessed, and that I 
possessed it so long. I bless God that the expe- 
rience of His past goodness affords me the fullest 
evidence that He is still good to me ; and that it is 
in mercy He afflicts me. I bless God that, whilst I 
am stript of every earthly comfort, I am allowed to 
repose myself on Him, and to find in Him a sup- 
ply for my loss. I bless God,' — may we not sup- 
pose that he, — even though a bereaved father, — 
could say, ' I bless God for the lesson He is giving 
me in this stroke, of the frailty and instability of 
my possessions.' 

Such was the spirit of the patriarch whose pious 
ejaculation has been the guide of our reflections. 
He could not only be patient, but resigned, not only 
resigned, but thankful. Nor was his patience, his 



SUBMISSION. 



149 



submission, the result of insensibility. If he bore 
his trials like a saint, he felt as a man. The feel- 
ings of nature are continually bursting forth through 
the whole of the book which contains his history, 
and they are restrained and regulated by pious 
trust. 

Through a succession of many ages has this 
example descended to be the pattern and the guide 
of all who are in trouble. It becomes us to copy, if 
we may not reach it. 

Affliction now, as then, is the lot of man. How- 
ever fair and bright may be the visions of childhood 
and youth, they must vanish before the sober and 
sad realities of mature age. 

God has given us kind affections ; they are the 
source of the purest and highest enjoyment; but, 
sooner or later, they are destined to be the source 
of the bitterest anguish. 

The objects on which they are placed prove un- 
worthy of them ; or they are taken away, and the 
heart must bleed. 

But I will not enlarge. I dare not trust myself 
on this theme. I have no desire to excite your 
feelings by indulging my own. 

If I have sympathized with you in your seasons 
of trouble, so I am assured of your sympathy in 
my own affliction. 

Having now a deeper fellow-feeling, than ever, of 
your sorrow, I may be better able to minister to 
your consolation. Experiencing, as I humbly trust 
I do, the supports of that religion which it is my 
13* 



150 



SUBMISSION. 



office to teach, I may, with the more confidence, 
present to you those comforts with which, — I 
would humbly say, — ' I myself am comforted 
of God.' 

My confidence in the wisdom and rectitude of 
the Divine administration, is unshaken. 

My belief in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and 
in the promises of his gospel, is the anchor of my 
hope, and the source of my consolation. 

I have a firm conviction that ' it is good to be 
afflicted.' 1 Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth.' 
Not for his pleasure, but for our profit; that we 
may be partakers of His holiness. 

Welcome, then, chastening, if thou art a proof 
of the love of my God ! Welcome thou kind, be- 
nevolent messenger of a most kind and benevolent 
Parent ! Though thy countenance be frowning, thy 
message is peaceful. Though thou comest to inter- 
rupt my security, and disturb my peace, thou art 
the harbinger, — if meekly received, and rightly 
used, — of more lasting security; of uninterrupted 
and eternal joy. 

I am willing to leave myself in the hands of God ; 
assured that my best interests are safe in His hands ; 
that He will not afflict me more than is needful for 
me; and trusting that he will give me grace, in 
every bereavement, to say, 1 The Lord gave and 
the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the 

NAME OF THE Lord!' 



151 



SERMON XXIV. 



THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, 
BUT SUBMITTED TO AND IMPROVED.* 

Job ix. 12. BEHOLD, HE TAKETH AW AT, AND WHO CAN HINDER HIM ? 

Were T allowed to follow the impulse of my 
feelings, I would banish from this place all associa- 
tions that are sad and gloomy, and cause it ever to 
resound with the notes of joy. 

I would come hither to speak only of scenes 
of unmixed happiness ; and to call for a tribute of 
grateful praise. 

But He who doeth His pleasure in heaven and 
on earth, and who is infinitely wise and good, has 
ordered otherwise. The providence of God forbids 
it. 

In the cup of life there are many bitter ingre- 
dients. 



* There is an allusion in this sermon to a distressing catas- 
trophe which had just taken place. 

A young lady, the wife of one parishioner, and daughter of 
another, in a storm at sea, was swept from the vessel by the winds 
into the ocean, and perished in the sight of her agonized husband, 
who was unable to make an effort for her rescue. 



152 



THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 



From the day we are born, till the day we die, 
there is an invariable mixture of joy and sorrow. 
Blessing and trials, prosperity and adversity, pleas- 
ure and pain, succeed each other as surely, though 
not as regularly, as the return of day and night, 
summer and winter ; and, like the confines of day 
and night, summer and winter, insensibly slide 
into each other. God hath joined them, and we 
cannot put them assunder. 

I look round upon this congregation, and my eye 
can scarcely rest upon a single family into which 
sorrow in some shape or other has not found ad- 
mission. 

I appeal to the experience of you all. 

I behold many of you toiling, with unwearied 
diligence, for the riches, or the honors, or the 
enjoyments of the world. 

I witness your ardor, your perseverence, your 
confidence. 

I hear you laying your plans ; boasting of their 
wisdom ; declaring your assurance of their success ; 
calculating your profits and emoluments. 

Suddenly, a cloud appears which darkens your 
prospects ; a tempest arises which sweeps away 
your hopes, and destroys your confidence. 

Again, I behold you in the midst of your 
families ; loving and beloved by them. I rejoice 
that your mountain appears to ' stand so strong ; ' 
and that there is no reason to believe ' it will soon 
be moved.' I come again and again ; and the wel- 
coming voice is the voice of gladness. 



NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. 153 

Sickness approaches, and damps your joy; or 
death unexpectedly enters, reverses the scene, and 
changes your joy into mourning. 

The world is full of uncertainties. Its best sat- 
isfactions are neither substantial nor permanent. 
For a while we dream of happiness, but often awake 
and find it an illusion. 

I have been accustomed, whilst I witnessed your 
afflictions, to do what I was able for their relief; 
and when you came hither to ' humble yourselves 
under the hand of Almighty God,' to tender you 
the consolations which His Word has provided for 
you. 

Topics of consolation, at such times, are pecu- 
liarly grateful. Topics of a different character are 
harsh and unwelcome. 

Nor will you do your minister the injustice 
to believe that he could readily turn his thoughts to 
other subjects under such circumstances as these. 

It is for him to mingle closely in your domestic 
griefs, as well as joys ; to witness 'the hope deferred 
that maketh the heart sick,' in the case of dying, or 
the expectation of absent friends ; and to witness, 
too, the extinction of that hope, in the sad, over- 
whelming certainty, that they will never recover; 
and never, never, return again. 

Called to witness, and to share in, — yes, largely 
to share in, — the grief of such scenes as these; 
whilst they weigh down his heart, they dwell in his 
mind, and must deeply tinge the current of thought, 
when he is preparing for the service of the sanc- 
tuary. 



■ 

154 THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 

It is well that it is so. Such topics, whilst they 
bring consolation to the hearts of the mourners, are 
not without their use to all. 

They serve to fortify the mind against the 
night of affliction which must descend upon every 
one. 

They excite sympathetic emotions towards those 
to whom they are more particularly addressed. 

They bring into closer union the members of a 
religious society, by the reflections on each other's 
condition which they occasion, and the feelings of 
sympathy they excite. They tend to awaken us 
to a sense of our own condition as dependent, 
mortal beings. 

Having made these prefatory remarks, which I 
trust are not inappropriate or useless, I proceed to 
the more immediate subject of my discourse. 

Behold, He taketh away; and who can hinder 
Him? Who can say unto Him, what doest 
Thou? 

Religion is not satisfied with directing our atten- 
tion to second causes. It leads us above them to 
the Great First Cause of all things. 

It conducts us to that Infinite Being who, from 
His exalted throne in the heavens, directs the 
affairs of this vast universe ; who determines in His 
wisdom the succession of events; who discerns 
and adopts the fittest means to accomplish the best 
ends ; who ' forms the light, and creates darkness ; ' 
'who makes peace, and creates evil;' and who 
would always appear to us ' most wise in counsel, 



NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. 155 



and most excellent in working,' if our feeble under- 
standings could comprehend the design and reason 
of His operations. 

It conducts us to God ; and presents Him to us 
under the mild aspect of a Father, always mindful 
of our happiness; and who has given us so many 
proofs of this in nature, providence, and grace, as 
to merit our entire confidence, and unreserved 
submission. 

We have abundant need of the consolation which 
religion thus affords ; and I know not any other 
source from whence light and comfort could be 
drawn amidst the evils of our condition on earth. 

I see and feel that we are the heirs of sorrow. I 
find in the revelation which religion has made to 
me, of the being, perfections, and providence of 
God, the design and end of affliction. 

I see and feel that there is much in the present 
state of things to perplex the understanding, as well 
as to wound the heart. I find in the revelation 
which religion has made to me another and better 
world, where my perplexities will be resolved, and 
my troubles cease. 

I place my trust in the blessings of this life, and 
find them vain. I lean upon an arm of flesh, 
and it is 'a broken reed.' I turn to God ; the God 
whom religion reveals to me. I lean upon the arm 
of God, and it does not fail me. Those whom I 
love and value, — and who might well be loved and 
valued, — are taken away from me. ' In the soli- 
tude of my soul ' I turn to God, and find that if all 



156 



THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 



were taken, ' I am not alone, because the Father 
is with me.' 

And in saying this, Christians, do I not speak the 
language of your hearts? If you are real Chris- 
tians, I do. 

I see you deprived of your health ; stript of your 
substance ; or bereft of your friends ; and if I did 
not find a response in your hearts when I speak to 
you of the wisdom and goodness of God ; of the 
consolations and hopes of the gospel of Christ; I 
should strive in vain to console you. 

You have lost, — and if religion had no comfort 
for you, — irretrievably lost, — one of the nearest 
and dearest objects of your earthly affection. It is 
mournful indeed, — nay, it is bitter anguish, which 
may be felt, but which, if it were desirable, could 
not be described, — when, in the midst of our earthly 
happiness, death comes in to blast our hopes for 
earth, in regard to those who are dearest to us. 

At such a moment, philosophy, — valuable as it 
is in itself, — has no effectual help for us. 

It is in vain to tell us that grief is unavailing ; 
that in time it will abate, and that at the longest its 
duration must be short. It is still more vain to tell 
us, in the language of ancient stoicism, that £ pain 
is no evil,' when we keenly feel that it is so. It is 
in vain to tell us to turn from our sorrows to amuse- 
ments, when we could not if we would, and should 
abhor to do so, if we could. 

Various and contradictory maxims may be urged 
upon us, and to all we must reply with the ancient 
sufferer, ' Miserable comforters are ye all.' 



NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. 157 

But it is not in vain to tell us to direct our thoughts 
to God; to make an oblation of our wills to Him; 
to submit to sufferings which are the chastenings of 
a Parent, whose designs are kindest when His dis- 
pensations are most severe ; to drink of the bitter 
cup we would avoid, without reproaching the Hand 
which administered the distasteful, but salutary pre- 
scription ; and to say, 4 1 was dumb, I opened not 
my mouth, because Thou didst it.' 

There is too much disposition in mankind to dis- 
regard the Providence of God ; to overlook His 
agency in the occurrences of life. Even in those 
events in which there is the most signal interposi- 
tion of Providence, this disposition is apparent. In 
the restoration of health, how common is it to rest 
in subordinate agents, instead of going beyond them 
to Him to whom the praise is chiefly due. ' It was 
the skill of the physician,' too often it is said, — 
4 the tender assiduity of friendship, or the peculiar 
excellence and efficacy of the means that were 
used.' { Were there not ten cleansed? But where 
are the nine ? ' 

Indeed the skill of the physician, and the assiduity 
of friendship, and the means that were used, were 
but instruments in the hands of God. 1 Except the 
Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build 
it.' 

In the loss of friends, too ; when the gourd under 
whose shade we had solaced ourselves is withered ; 
how often do we hear deep, but unavailing regrets 
that a different course had not been adopted from 

VOL. 11. 14 



158 



THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 



that which was actually pursued. 1 Had I em- 
ployed another physician ; tried a certain remedy ; 
removed my friend to the country ; or retained him 
in town ; he might still have been with me.' 

If the course pursued, and the means that were 
used, were those which, to thy best judgment, ap- 
peared to be right ; thou hast no cause to indulge 
the feelings of regret. It was the will of God, who 
cannot err, that thy friend should die. Yet he died 
but to live again. "Was he prepared ? he lives in 
heaven. Be thankful that the blessing was enjoyed. 
Be submissive now that it is, for a season, with- 
drawn. Gird up thy loins, and prepare to follow. 

There is no time when we feel more sensibly our 
weakness and insufficiency, than when our earthly 
hopes are prostrated by the removal of those whom 
we love. 

In vain has been all our solicitude and care ; our 
precautions and our efforts vain. If the will of 
God has decreed it, nothing that we could do, will 
counteract His purpose. The creatures of His pow- 
er are subject to His disposal. He who gave life, 
can take it away, and who can hinder Him ? 

But if we feel our weakness and insufficiency ; if 
we feel that our precautions are useless, and our ef- 
forts unavailing, against the Providence of God ; 
the most thoughtless of us, — it may be presumed, 
— is never tempted, in the language of presumption 
and impiety, to say ' What doest Thou ? ' 

' Behold, He taketh away, and who can hinder 
Him? ' 



NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. 159 



It was inevitable. We have done what we could 
to prevent it ; to give stability and permanency to 
what is in its nature unstable and fleeting; to 
stay the flight of the spirit which God had sum- 
moned to Himself, and which was struggling to 
get loose from its mortal coil. But it was to no 
purpose. The word had gone forth, ' Dust thou art, 
and unto dust shalt thou return ; ' and that which 
was warm with life becomes cold in death. 

It is the part of wisdom, as well as piety, to be 
4 still. 5 Our complaints would be as unavailing as 
our efforts to prevent had been fruitless. 

It may be that the Providence is mysterious and 
inexplicable. A mother's care may have been with- 
drawn from young children, and that mother anx- 
ious and devoted. The stroke may have fallen 
thrice in the same family in a little time, and the 
days of youth and loveliness have been numbered. 

1 The way of God may have been in the sea.' 
The raging wind may have swept away, the stormy 
ocean may have swallowed up, some of the dearest 
objects of our love. We have seen them perish and 
our help was vain. Or we have waited their return ; 
but 4 the place which once knew them shall know 
them no more.' 4 We looked for peace, but no good 
came.' 4 Behold He taketh away, and who can 
hinder Him.' 

If we should be tempted, in the bitterness of 
grief, to ask 4 What doest Thou ? ' the inquiry 
would come back upon us, 4 Who art thou that repli- 
est against God?' 4 What hast thou that thou 
didst not receive?' 



160 



THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 



But if it does not become thee to murmur, it 
becomes thee to submit and adore ; to be grateful 
for the consolation that is afforded thee in thy recol- 
lections and thy hopes ; in the word of Him who 
came to bind up the broken-hearted, and to pour the 
oil of gladness into the wounded spirit. 

Nor is this all. It becomes thee to open thy heart 
to the devout impressions which the affliction that 
is appointed thee is adapted to make ; to gather in- 
struction from the Providence of God ; and be able 
to say with the ancient sufferer, ' It is good for me 
to be afflicted.' 

' Whomsovever the Lord loveth He chasteneth, 
not for His pleasure, but for our profit ; that we 
might be partakers of His holiness.' 

What would become of us if our life were an 
unmingled portion of good ; if our day were never 
darkened with the clouds of adversity? Should 
we not say with the apostle on the mount of trans- 
figuration, ' It is good for us to be here ;' and put far 
away from our thoughts what it would be so dread- 
ful to realize ? Should we not forget the value of 
our blessings ; and be regardless of the Fountain 
whilst the streams were full ? Strange as it is, we 
forget God because He never forgets us. The very 
multitude of His blessings makes us unmindful of 
Him; as the thick foliage of the spreading tree 
shuts out the light of that sun to which it owes its 
verdure and beauty. 

It is not when the wind is fair, and the sails are 
filled with a prosperous gale, that the mariner is 



NOT TO BE QUESTIONED ETC. 



161 



found at his devotions, but when the storm is up 
and the sea rages, and the waves threaten to devour 
him. 

Who is there that does not acknowledge that a 
blessing is enhanced by the fear of losing it, and 
that its value is never fully known till it is taken 
away ? 

When wearisome days and nights are appointed 
us, we learn to prize the blessing of health. When 
pinched with hunger and cold, we duly estimate 
the blessings of food and rainment. 

It is, alas! when we are robbed of our friends, 
that we fully realize how much we are indebted to 
God for them; and how much we owe for what 
still remains to us. 

Afflictions, then, are intended as the instruments 
of good to us. Afflictions which, by the grace of 
God, we have rightly improved, are real blessings. 
They come indeed with a frowning countenance, 
but they bear a message of peace. They come to 
mingle bitter ingredients in the cup of our enjoy- 
ment, but it is to prevent us from being intoxicated 
by the draught. They come to break asunder the 
ties which bind us to earth and earthly things, but 
it is to unite us more closely to heaven and God. 

Whatever may come upon us, here is a shelter 
and refuge in which our spirit may find rest by re- 
posing itself on the bosom of security and peace. 
Our Father is at the helm of the universe, directing 
all things for the good of all. 

Let us then bend our neck to the yoke ; and learn 
14* 



162 



THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 



wisdom from the things that we suffer. i The heart 
knoweth its own bitterness ; ' the bitterness of los- 
ing what a contributed so much to the happiness 
of life. But it may also know the sweetness of re- 
ligious hope ; of affections placed on higher objects; 
of mingling, by faith, the spirit that is on earth, 
with the spirit that is in heaven ; of the anticipa- 
tion of another meeting with those who deserved 
its love, in a world where 1 there is no more death.' 

My hearers, I cannot forbear to press upon you 
the admonition which God, in His Providence, has 
so forcibly and awfully addressed to you within the 
last few weeks. Whilst your feelings prompt you 
to sympathize with the afflicted, forget not that in 
youth, as well as in maturity and old age, you may 
be called away. 1 As the fishes are taken in an evil 
net ; and as the birds are caught in a snare, so are 
the sons of men snared in an evil time when it 
cometh suddenly upon them.' ' Man knoweth not 
his time.' ' He cometh forth as a flower, and is cut 
down. He fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth- 
not.' 

Death is ever watching at our side, eager to stop 
the current of life. It may come in the daytime, 
and arrest us amidst the calls of business. It may 
come in the night, and the eyes which had closed in 
security upon the world, may open in eternity. It 
may come and interrupt our festivities. It may come 
and find us at our devotions : and happy, — were it 
so, — if the voice of supplication be exchanged for 
the ceaseless voice of praise. It may come in 



NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. 



163 



the quiet, gentle approaches of slow and wasting 
sickness ; or, in the suddenness and severity of 
violent disease. It may come in the retired, peace- 
ful scenes of domestic life ; or it may come upon 
the boisterous ocean, in the whirlwind and the storm. 
It may come and find us in the bosom of our fami- 
ily ; or far from home, £ by strangers honored, and 
by strangers mourned.' 

Come as it will, may we be ready, by the bless- 
ing of God, to bid it welcome. Come as it will, 
may it find us watching, 6 with our loins girded and 
our lamps burning.' 

There is a voice in nature around us little less 
impressive than that which addresses us from the 
grave. It speaks in the fading, withering flowers, 
and in the falling leaf. Let us not fail to give it 
language. It addresses itself to our hearts, — ' We 

ALL DO FADE AS A LEAF.' 



164 



SERMON XXV. 



LESSONS TO BE LEARNED IN THE HOUSE OF 
MOURNING. 

Eccles. vii. 2. — it is better to go to the house of mourning than 
TO the house of feasting. 

These words, at first sight, appear strange and 
paradoxical. 

By the constitution of our nature we are strong- 
ly attracted towards scenes and objects which are 
cheerful and pleasant, and have an equal repug- 
nance to those which are sad and gloomy. 

We prefer the ' garment of praise,' to c the spirit 
of heaviness ; ' the house of mirth to that of sorrow 
and mourning. 

How then can it be well for us to contemplate 
those objects which are so repugnant to the feelings 
and propensities of our nature ? 

Can the bed of pain, and sickness, and death ; a 
family desolate ; a husband, a wife, or a parent, be- 
wailing the loss of all that was most dear ; ' Rachel 
weeping for her children, and refusing to be com- 
forted because they are not ; ' can such objects as 
these, — so painful, so distressing, — be fit objects 



LESSONS TO BE LEARNED, ETC. 165 

for our contemplation ; and not only so, but the 
best fitted for it ? 

It is even so. The author of the text has not 
presented to us a proposition apparently so strange, 
without giving his reason for it. 

' It is better,' he says, ' to go to the house of 
mourning than to the house of feasting, for this is 
the end of all men, and the living will lay it to heart? 

The living' will lay it to heart. 

It would be well, if, in fact, it ivere always so. 

It would be well if the living, when they go to 
the house of mourning, would seriously reflect upon 
the occasion which carries them thither, and the in- 
timate concern they have with it ; and when they 
come away, would bring upon their hearts a deep 
impression of the truths they had been taught there. 

It may be that they go to witness the keenness of 
parental disappointment in the early blight of a 
parent's hopes. The infant that but just returns 
the smile of affection ; or the little child that has 
learned to speak its wants, and to respond to the 
accents of tenderness, is the object of the funeral 
solemnities. Or a youth is to be borne to the grave ; 
the grave of hopes, alas how fond, and yet how 
vain ! 

It may be that they go to witness the severance 
of the conjugal tie. The husband, or the wife, and 
perhaps in the early period of their union ; and it may 
be, by a stroke as sudden as it is severe, laid low in 
death. 

They go, in short, to behold the indiscriminate, 



166 



LESSONS TO BE LEARNED 



and unsparing ravages of the last enemy ; the fair- 
est prospects darkened, and the most interesting and 
most useful lives terminated. 

And how instructive is the scene ! How power- 
ful the voice which speaks silently, but impressively, 
to the understanding and the heart. 

Its first address is to those who have the deepest 
interest in the scene ; to the parent whose hopes 
are blighted ; to those who have lost the friends of 
their bosom, their associates in the duties and cares, 
the enjoyments and sorrows of life ; to those whose 
house, in the mournful and mysterious Providence 
of God, is itself the house of mourning. 

Hard indeed is the lesson of mortality which is 
written in dust, so sacred, so dear. 

Mournful, indeed, the voice which issues from 
the remains of what was once so lovely, and so 
much loved ! And who will lay it to heart, if they 
do not? 

Others may come to mix in a crowd ; to behold 
a show ; to pay a civil compliment to an afflicted 
family, and the last respect to a neighbor and ac- 
quaintance. But it is not so with them. They 
have a close and intimate connection with what is 
passing. A part of themselves, of what was bound 
to them by the closest ties, is taken away ; and it 
will be required of them, whilst they bow their 
souls in submission, to learn wisdom from 4 the 
things which they suffer.' 

They feel that all they most value is unsubstan- 
tial and vain, and they must learn to ' sit more 



IN THE HOUSE OF MOURNING. 



167 



loosely,' to what they value here, and to lay a firmer 
hold on what is substantial and abiding. 

In religion they will find a source of consolation 
under trials, however severe ; and in God a substi- 
tute for every other friend. He gives and takes 
away in mercy and kindness, and as much deserves 
our confidence, and love, and gratitude, in taking, 
as in giving. The time which He appoints is the 
fittest. All the circumstances are such as it is best 
they should be ; and if we gain instruction, and 
spiritual benefit, from our disappointment and suf- 
fering, we shall be more than repaid for all. 

The season of affliction is a season peculiarly 
valuable. It is a season consecrated to reflection 
and prayer. When we have lost that which gave 
to life its highest charm, or was associated with all 
our ideas of earthly happiness, the world appears 
empty and unattractive. In our solitary state, ' whom 
have we in heaven but God ; and who on earth do 
we desire beside Him?' If we think and feel as 
we ought, we turn to Him as our best, our only re- 
source. 

But the fire which does not melt, hardens ; and 
in passing through the furnace of affliction, if the 
heart is not softened, and rendered more ductile to 
serious impressions, it becomes less alive to them ; 
and the design of affliction is frustrated, — per- 
verted. 

Nor is it only for those who are most nearly and 
deeply interested, to learn the lessons that are 
taught in the house of mourning. It should be one 



168 



LESSONS TO BE LEARNED 



great purpose of those who go there, to have their 
hearts affected by the monitory instance of mor- 
tality which is presented to them. They should go 
with thoughtful minds. They should listen with 
deep attention to the silent preacher, which, in the 
Providence of God, is admonishing them of their 
frailty, and of the instability of their blessings. 
They should lift up their hearts in prayer that they 
may be impressed-, and awakened to repentance and 
holiness. They should come away with thought- 
ful minds, and carry with them, into the quiet and 
the active scenes of life, into its business and its 
relaxations, the recollection of what they have seen 
and heard. 

They have a deep concern in it ; for what they 
have seen and heard is an exhibition and warning 
of what will soon happen to them. 

That silent teacher has only taught them what 
they, in their turn, shall teach to others, in the silent 
language of death. 

And can it be, that any are anxious to banish 
from their minds what concerns them so nearly, and 
to get rid of impressions, — if they have been 
made, — which are so important to their eternal 
welfare ? 

Can it be, that any will not seek to revive those 
impressions, and cherish them, and strive, by the 
grace of God, to render them influential on their 
conduct ? 

That ancient monarch was far wiser who com- 
manded that he should be told every day, ' Thou 



IN THE HOUSE OF MOURNING. 169 

art mortal.' It was a fact, and why should he not 
be told of it? It was an all-important fact, and 
why should he not be often told of it? It was a 
fact adapted to exert an influence on his daily con- 
duct, and why should he not be reminded of it 
every day ? 

The young are taken. The middle-aged are taken. 
The old are taken. They who have little, and they 
who have much ; the happy and the unhappy ; and 
as none are exempt, can any desire to be exempt 
from the thoughts of mortality, which alone can 
prepare them for it ? 

It was the advice of a heathen poet, ' Act every 
day as if it were thy last.' 

* Believe that every morning's ray 
Will usher in thy latest day.' 

Though the advice was not given for a Christian 
purpose, a Christian may profit by it. 

If, to banish the thought of death would banish 
death itself, there would be some reason for striving 
to forget it. But how strange is the infatuation to 
strive to forget what it is of infinite moment that 
we should remember and feel ; to shut our eyes on 
the brink of a precipice ! 

But why should we be unwilling to entertain 
the thought of death ? What is it ? It is not an- 
nihilation. It is only a change in the mode of 
existence. It may be a change for the better. To 
little children, of whom our Saviour has said ' of 
such is the kingdom of heaven,' it is an introduc- 

VOL. II. 15 



170 



LESSONS TO BE LEARNED 



tion to that kingdom. To the righteous, for whom 
the apostle said ' there remaineth a rest,' it is to 
enter into that rest. 1 It is better,' and not worse, 
' to depart and be with Christ,' It is to be freed 
from the disappointments and sorrows of this 
life, — from its vexations and cares, its infirmi- 
ties and sicknesses, its temptations and sins ; from 
all that troubles and distracts, and weighs down 
our spirits. It is to be re-united to that from which 
we are severed, to regain what we have lost, if it 
will be necessary to our happiness to receive it 
again. It is to go from what is vain, to what is 
real ; from what is unsubstantial, to what is sure ; 
from what is unsatisfying, to what will fill the 
largest capacities, and gratify the utmost wishes of 
the soul. 

It is better to go to the house of mourning than 
to the house of feasting. <• The heart of the wise 
is in the house of mourning.' 

In the house of mourning there are preachers far 
more eloquent, my hearers, than any who can ad- 
dress you from this place, and whose eloquence, 
though silent, is not the less instructive and ener- 
getic. The lessons they teach concern you all, and 
concern you deeply. Their admonition is, ( It is 
appointed unto all once to die.' Man knoweth 
not his time. ' He cometh forth like a flower and 
is cut down ; he fleeth also as a shadow, and 
continueth not. In the midst of life we are in 
death.' 

Turn not a deaf ear, I beseech you, to the admo- 



IN THE HOUSE OF MOURNING. 



171 



nition which these words convey to you. Ponder 
it! Obey it! 

Learn a lesson of instruction from the victims 
whom death is continually immolating, and ' so 
number your days as to apply your hearts unto 
wisdom. 



172 



SERMON XXVI. 



A SENSE OF THE PRESENCE AND BLESSING OF GOD 
INCONSISTENT WITH FEAR. 

Isaiah xli. 10. — fear thou xot, i am with thee, be not dismayed, 

I AM THY GOD. 

We should have reason indeed to fear, if we 
were left to contend with our own arm against the 
temptations, or to struggle in our strength under 
the sufferings of life. It requires but little expe- 
rience to convince us of the force of these tempta- 
tions, and the weight of these sufferings, and, at 
the same time, of our utter inability, of ourselves, 
to resist or sustain them. 

The present world is a probationary state. Both 
temptations and sufferings are essential to it. We 
are not to be surprised, then, as though 4 some 
strange thing had happened ' to us, when we are 
called to encounter them. They are a part of the 
discipline appointed by Infinite Wisdom, and are 
designed and adapted to promote our improvement 
and happiness. 

Still, they would be irresistible, and insupport- 
able, if there were not strength, superior to our 
own, to uphold and aid us in the conflict. 



A SENSE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD, ETC. 173 

Praised be God, in the assaults of our spiritual 
enemies, — when we look for succor,- — a powerful 
arm, stronger than the strongest, is extended for 
our defence ; and in the time of trouble, when the 
clouds gather around us, and, like the apostles, we 
4 fear as we enter into the cloud,' if we exercise a 
pious trust, there is a voice from the cloud whose 
language is, ' Fear thou not, I am with thee. Be 

NOT DISMAYED, I AM THY GoD.' 

Blessed words ! How full of consolation ! How 
do they lighten the heavy pressure of calamity, and 
afford a balm to to the bleeding heart! 

i Fear thou not, I am with thee.' 

And who is it that thus comes, in the time of 
need, to speak the words of comfort, and to hush 
our fears by the assurance of his presence and aid? 
Who is it that, with so much authority, yet with 
so much tenderness, bids us look to him for help 
when other help is vain ? 

It is God. Yes, it is God. He who said to the 
waves of the sea, ' Hitherto shalt thou come and no 
farther ; ' can control the waves of affliction as they 
pass over the soul, that they shall not overwhelm 
us. He who ' doeth His pleasure in heaven and 
on earth ; ' who is higher than the highest, whom 
no power can resist ; condescends to ' pour the oil 
of gladness into the wounded spirit,' and to ' bind 
up the broken in heart.' 

Be ■ not dismayed, I am thy God. Almighty in 
power ; infinite in wisdom ; perfect in goodness ; 
what can we desire more? If He be for us, 'who 



174 A SENSE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD 

can be against us ? ' If He be for us, we need not 
fear £ though the earth be removed, and the moun- 
tains be carried into the midst of the sea.' 

Though every other prop should fail us, if we 
lean upon Him we shall be upheld. 

Though every other refuge should be withdrawn, 
if we can flee to the Rock of Ages for shelter, we 
shall find a covert from the tempest. Though every 
other friend should forsake us, if we are secure in 
the friendship of God, we have enough; for we 
can always say, in our most solitary state, l I am not 
alone, because the Father is with me.' — The Father 
of spirits, He who knoweth our frame, and remem- 
bereth that we are but dust ; ' and as a father pitieth 
his children, hath pity on them that fear Him.' 

Behold, then, thy refuge, Christian, in the time of 
trouble ! Behold thy Friend, when other Mends 
fail thee, — thy Protector, when other protectors are 
withdrawn from thee. "Whatever calamity has be- 
fallen thee, if thou reposest thy trust in God, and 
doest His will, thou mayest appropriate to thyself 
the assurance of our text, ^Fear thou not, I am with 
thee.'' Thou mayest appropriate it to thyself, and it 
will be sufficient for thee. Thou canst sustain no 
loss which His presence and blessing cannot supply. 
Thou canst need no strength which His omnipo- 
tence cannot afford thee. His appointments may 
be mysterious and inexplicable ; but He will give 
thee to perceive that they are ordered in wisdom. 
' Clouds and darkness ' may be i round about Him,' 
but He will give thee to know and to feel that 



INCONSISTENT WITH FEAR. 



175 



'righteousness and judgment and mercy are the 
habitation of His throne.' 

Thou mayest be allowed to perceive, in the pres- 
ent world, that His darkest dispensations are ordered 
in kindness and love ; and £ what thou knowest not 
now, thou shalt know hereafter.' The clouds and 
darkness which envelope the throne of the Eternal 
shall be dispelled, and ' His righteousness shall 
shine forth as the light, and His judgment as the 
noonday.' If thy trials are sanctified to thee, and 
made the instrument, through the mediation of the 
Saviour, of procuring for thee 6 an eternal weight of 
glory,' standing as on an eminence, thou wilt look 
back on the path of life and adore the wisdom that 
marked out thy course for thee, and the mercy that 
made it, in any respect, a difficult and wearisome 
pilgrimage. 

Let thy faith anticipate this period. Borrow 
some sweets from the store of futurity to mitigate 
the bitterness of present grief. Nay, look backward 
now, whilst thou art yet a pilgrim on earth, and 
behold how much cause there is for gratitude and 
trust and consolation in the past. Look around 
thee, and see how many blessings yet remain, to 
awaken the sentiment of thankfulness, and pious 
trust in God. Listen to the kind invitation, 1 Call 
upon Me in trouble, I will deliver thee, and thou 
shalt glorify me ; ' and adopt, with the full consent 
of thy mind, the devout, confiding language of the 
Psalmist, 4 Why art thou cast down, O my soul ? 
Why art thou disquieted within me? Hope in 



176 A SENSE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD 

God, for I shall yet praise Him for the help of His 
countenance.' 

To adopt the language of devout and grateful 
trust in God, is the duty, and may be the privilege, 
of us all. In prosperity, it is this alone that can 
render prosperity a blessing. In adversity, this 
only can take the edge from affliction, and convert 
a seeming evil into a real good. 

No period of life, no favorable combination of 
circumstances in our lot, can exempt us from ca- 
lamity. We are ' born to trouble.' It is an inher- 
itance sad indeed, but one which we cannot refuse. 
We may be happy in our families ; prosperous in 
our affairs ; possessed of health ; surrounded by 
friends ; but all will not avail to avert the stroke. 
6 Our mountain ' never ' standeth so strong that 
it cannot be moved.' 

The sources of our happiness will be the sources 
of our misery. If the ties are numerous that have 
entwined themselves about the heart, the more cer- 
tain and the more frequent the suffering. If they 
are close, the more profusely the heart will bleed 
when they are torn away. 

Calamity may come upon us suddenly. A few 
days, — nay, even a moment, — may reverse our 
prospects of worldly good. 

When the earthly staff of our comfort fails us, if 
we have no firmer stay, we must sink. When our 
fairest earthly prospects are reversed, if we have no 
brighter prospects, our condition must be dark and 
gloomy indeed. 



INCONSISTENT WITH FEAR. 



177 



What comfort, — I beseech you, — is there for 
him who has no hope in God ? None, on earth or 
in heaven. He is drawing from a broken cistern. 
He is building on an unstable foundation. ' His 
hope is as a spider's web.' It will be swept away. 



178 



SERMON XXVII. 



THEY ARE NOT ALONE WHO FEEL ASSURED THAT THE 
FATHER IS WITH THEM. 

John xvi. 33. — i am not alone, because the father is with me. 

Our Saviour spake these words in reference to 
one of the most affecting incidents of his life. 

They were addressed to his disciples in his last 
interview with them before his crucifixion. 

In adverting to the events that were about to take 
place, he alludes, — but in a manner far from re- 
proachful, — to their desertion of him, and to his 
being left alone, unsupported and uncheered by the 
presence of his friends, in the midst of his enemies. 
' Behold the hour cometh, yea, and now is, when all 
ye shall be scattered abroad, and shall leave me 
alone. And yet,' he adds, * I am not alone, because 
the Father is with me.' 

His prediction, in a few hours, was verified. They 
were 4 scattered every one to his own,' but the 
presence of his Father, and the strength that was 
vouchsafed to him, enabled him to meet his enemies 
unappalled ; and, in the hall of Pilate, and on the 



THEY ARE NOT ALONE, ETC. 



179 



cross at Calvary, to preserve a deportment serene 
and dignified. 

In the garden of Gethsemane so bitter were the 
ingredients which were mingled in his cup of suf- 
fering, that reluctant nature was for a moment 
unwilling to drink it. But there was a visible 
interposition of God in his support. 4 There ap- 
peared an angel to him strengthening him,' and he 
could say, ' Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou 
wilt.' 

Amidst the horrors and pangs of crucifixion, the 
mournful complaint was forced from him, — ' My 
God ! my God ! why hast Thou forsaken me ? ' 
but again he reposes himself, in that awful hour, on 
the protection of his Father, and into His hands 
commits his departing spirit. 

He had sojourned forty days in the wilderness. 
He had spent "whole nights in the desert mountain. 
He had wandered about from place to place, not 
having where to lay his head. Yet, in the deepest 
solitude, and amidst the severest privations, his 
nearest and best Friend was ever at hand, to arm 
him against the assaults of the tempter, to sustain 
him under the pressure of want and suffering, and 
to aid him in fulfilling the work of mercy which 
had been given him to do. 

And so at last, when, to use the language of the 
Psalmist, his friends stood aloof from his sore, and 
his kinsmen afar off; when he yielded his life 
an offering for sin, the same Friend was near to 
supply the place of earthly comforters ; to accept 



180 



THEY ARE NOT ALONE, 



his voluntary sacrifice, and to receive the pure and 
spotless spirit to the place from which it had de- 
scended. 

There was a peculiar sense in which the presence 
of God was with Jesus Christ. 

He was intimately and inconceivably united to 
the Father; and of him it was said, by a voice 
from heaven, in a sense in which it could be said 
of *no human being, ' This is my beloved Son, in 
whom I am well pleased.' 

We need go no farther ; I am ready to acknowl- 
edge that my anxious inquiries can carry me no 
farther. 

The nature of the connection between the Fa- 
ther and the Son it has not pleased God to reveal. 
Nor perhaps could it be revealed to our imperfect 
conceptions. We must have other powers than we 
now have to understand it. It is useless and un- 
profitable, — to say the least, — to contend where 
there is so little knowledge. Jesus Christ himself 
has told us that he is 4 the way, the truth, and the 
life, and that no one cometh to the Father but by 
him.' 

But if there is a peculiar sense in which the pres- 
ence of God was with Jesus Christ, there is a sense, 
too, in which the presence of God may be with us, 
frail children of mortality. 

I do no't refer to that Omniscience which per- 
vades the universe, which surrounds and pervades 
all that exists. In this sense He is present with 
us as he was with Jesus, in every hour and in every 



WHO HAVE THE FATHER WITH THEM. 181 

place, with the wicked, as well as with the good ; 
with those who are the objects of His displeasure, 
as well as those who are the objects of his com- 
placency and love. 

Yet there is still another sense in which God is 
with us ; the same in nature, though not in degree, 
in which His presence was with the blessed Sa- 
viour. 

The wicked man who, in the darkness of the 
night, is pursuing his unholy purpose, may indeed 
say ' Thou God seest me ; ' but he cannot say with 
the tenderness and affection of the pious, who, in 
the secrecy of devout retirement, is communing 
with God, ' I am not alone, because the Father 
is with me.' 

He cannot feel as the pious feels, when he is 
deserted and bereft, that, in his most solitary state, 
a parental arm, stronger than the strongest, is ex- 
tended for his support ; and the wing of Almighty 
Love spread out for his protection. 

When the tempest beats upon his head, or the 
' waters pass into his soul,' he cannot say ' Lead me to 
the Rock that is higher than I.' 'In the secret of his 
pavilion he will hide me till the tempest be overpast.' 
No ! He would gladly ' go out from the presence of 
the Lord,' and hide himself from the notice of that 
Eye from whose penetrating glance none can escape, 
and under whose protection the righteous repose 
themselves with filial confidence. And here is the 
difference. None are alone ; but the pious only can 
rejoice in the presence of God. And they do re- 

VOL. II. 16 



182 



THEY ARE NOT ALONE, 



joice in it. It is the source of their highest joy. In 
prosperity they rejoice in it, for they remember that 
the Author of their prosperity is the witness of their 
grateful improvement of it. 

In adversity they rejoice in it, for it sustains and 
consoles them. He who has wounded is present 
to heal them, and to pour the balm of consolation 
into their wounded spirits. 

In seasons of doubt and perplexity they rejoice 
in it, for it enlightens and guides them. 

In sickness they rejoice in it, for it 4 makes all 
their bed in their sickness.' In death they rejoice 
in it, for it fortifies their minds. It sheds a holy 
peace abroad in their hearts, and inspires a blessed 
hope full of immortality ; and, 4 though they walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death, they fear 
no evil.' 

My hearers, have we imbibed so much of the 
spirit of our blessed Saviour, that, in the most soli- 
tary state, we can say with him — 4 1 am not alone, 
because the Father is with me ? ' 

Is this our joy in prosperity, our support in ad- 
versity ; and will this minister peace and consola- 
tion to our spirits when they are taking their flight 
into eternity? If it be not so, hapless indeed is 
our condition. 

If it be so, we have enough. We have all and 
abound. In poverty we are rich. In sickness we 
have health. In death we live. 

Our friends may die, but our best Friend re- 



WHO HAVE THE FATHER WITH THEM. 183 

mains to us. The time of our departure may come, 
but we shall be borne up £ amidst the swellings of 
Jordan ; ' and the presence of God, which has been 
the source of our joy through the brief and fleeting 
moments of our earthly pilgrimage, will be the 
source of our joy through the endless ages of* eter- 
nity. 



184 



SERMON XXVIII. 



THE FEAR OF DEATH. 

Heb. ii. 5. — who, through fear of death, were all their life- 
time SUBJECTED TO BONDAGE. 

Few, probably, if any, have passed through life 
wholly unsubjected to the bondage of the fear of 
death. 

It requires a powerful struggle to break this thral- 
dom. It is the noblest effort of the mind, with the 
full sense of death, and with just conceptions of 
death, to overcome this fear. 

It is an effort which, I hesitate not to say, the 
pious only can make with success. 

Many, indeed, who were not pious have met 
death apparently unmoved by fear. But were they 
fully aware of its approach? Had they a just sense 
of its consequences ? Was there no latent hope of 
escape ? 

I am not yet convinced that any thing but piety 
will inspire composure and tranquillity when death 
is viewed as unavoidable, and as an introduction to 
the righteous tribunal of God. 



THE FEAR OF DEATH. 



185 



There are several causes of the fear of death. I 
shall mention a few of them. 

1. The first is inherent in our nature. It is a prin- 
ciple implanted by our Creator as the safeguard 
of life; an instinct, which prompts to self-preser- 
vation before the slow process of reason could de- 
termine the necessity, or direct to the means. We 
have an instinctive dread of death, and shrink from 
it, — involuntarily, but earnestly. 

2. The second cause is our attachment to the 
world in which we dwell ; to the scenes and the 
objects, — not to say the employments and the pleas- 
ures, — which render life desirable. We are em- 
barked on an ocean with all that is dear and valu- 
able to us. Death is the shipwreck, and the wreck 
is total. 

3. The third is the uncertainty concerning the 
state of the departed; the veil that conceals fu- 
turity, and, to us, shrouds it in darkness ; perhaps 
the certainty, if called as we now are into eternity, 
of a fearful retribution. 

There is, too, I may add, in some, a constitu- 
tional tendency to anxiety and solicitude, which 
neither reason nor religion can always wholly over- 
come. It is a weakness of their nature, but is not a 
proof that they are not safe. Their sun may set in 
a cloud, and rise in glory. 

Such are the causes, — at least some of the prin- 
cipal ones, — of the fear of death. 

And what are the remedies ? 
16* 



186 



THE FEAR OF DEATH. 



If, as I have said, the natural dread of death is 
the safeguard of life, entirely to suppress it were 
not desirable, even if it be possible. 

Life is given for the accomplishment of valuable 
ends. It is known to Him who gave it, how long 
it is fitting and best it should last ; and to be reck- 
less of life is as little the part of wisdom as of piety. 
But the natural dread of death may be moderated 
by the frequent contemplation of death; at least 
in such points of view as reason and religion pre- 
sent it to us ; by considering it as a means to an 
important end; as a translation from one state of 
being to another ; and, to the righteous, as a trans- 
lation to a state inconceivably better and happier 
than the present. 

By such contemplation, the circumstances which 
attend the ' article of death ' become disarmed of 
their terrors. When a great good is to be obtained, 
the evils we must encounter in acquiring it lose 
their importance. 

The remedy for the dread of losing the world, 
and the objects of the world, is to dwell on the 
recollection of those fairer scenes and better objects 
which faith, while on earth, can descry, and which 
piety will realize and enjoy in heaven. 

Why should we dread to part with a lesser for a 
greater good? Why should we cling so closely, 
so fondly, to what is fading, uncertain, unsatisfy- 
ing; when we can exchange them for what is last- 
ing, sure, and all-sufficient? 

Shall we dread death, if to die is to live forever ? 



THE FEAR OF DEATH. 



187 



Shall we dread to part from those whom we have 
loved below, when we may meet with worthier ob- 
jects of affection above, and are assured that those 
who were most worthy of our affection here, will 
be the companions and sharers of our felicity there ? 

But there is still another cause of the fear of 
death; and for this, too, we must find a remedy. 
The uncertainty respecting futurity, or perhaps the 
certainty, that death to us will be the instrument of 
misery and ruin. 

I grant that there is much darkness and uncer- 
tainty respecting the state of the departed. 

There is much to lead us to believe, I think, in 
the immediate transition of the soul to a state of 
consciousness after death. There is manifestly a 
difference between the soul and the body ; and we 
do often find that when the body is wasted, and 
sinking into death, the spirit is animated and vigor- 
ous, and aspiring after life. The Scriptures, too, 
in as far as they give us information, strengthen this 
belief. The declaration of our Saviour to the thief 
on the cross, and the parable of the rich man who 
fared sumptuously, and Lazarus who was ' laid at 
his gate full of sores,' are to this point. And to 
these, among others, might be added the allusions 
to Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, as already glori- 
fied ; the declaration of Paul that for him to depart 
was to be with Christ, and the appearance of Moses 
and Elias on the mount of transfiguration. 

Yet there is uncertainty respecting the mode of 
existence. ' No traveller has returned from that 
bourne to tell us what it is.' 



188 



THE FEAR OF DEATH 



The most important information, however, has 
been given us. We are told that we shall live ; and 
that if our life on earth has been holy, our life in 
heaven will be happy. 

More than this, we need not know. More than 
this, we could not understand. Our powers are 
finite, and infinite objects are too vast for our com- 
prehension. 

As sure as God exists, who ' cannot lie, 5 there is 
a heaven where piety will find its reward ; and a 
hell where sin will meet its punishment ; and this is 
enough for us to know. 

If this knowledge has its proper influence upon 
us ; if it leads us to repentance ; the last cause of 
the fear of death I have mentioned will no longer 
exist, — the certainty that death will be the instru- 
ment of misery. 

It is preparation for death alone, that can disarm 
death of its sting. And will any of you neglect 
this preparation, and remain in bondage under the 
fear of death, and feel its sting, and taste its bitter- 
ness unallayed, and reap its fearful consequences ? 

O, be not so unwise ! Christ has taken the sting 
from death, and they who live in Christ, and die in 
Christ, shall not feel its power. 

To them death is conquered, despoiled, destroyed. 
The clouds that hung over its valley are scattered. 
The veil is lifted, to the eye of faith the throne of 
God and of the Lamb, is visible ; and the bed of 
infirmity and death becomes the field of triumph. 
< O death, where is thy sting ! O grave where is 



THE FEAR OF DEATH. 



189 



thy victory ! ' ' Thanks be to God who giveth us 
the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.' 

Fear not, then, pious believer! Thou hast ob- 
tained thy freedom from the dominion of sin, and 
thou hast no reason to be in bondage to the fear of 
death. By the grace of God, thou hast overcome 
the enemy to thy salvation ; and thou hast in truth 
overcome the last enemy. It may destroy thy body, 
but it cannot harm thy soul. 

Harm thy soul ! It comes to bless it. It comes 
to release it from the bondage of corruption. It 
comes to take it from its prison-house where it is 
fettered and confined, and to introduce it to light 
and liberty, where it may flow out in unrestrained 
affection towards the Source of its felicity, enjoy the 
full fruition of its hopes, and taste of bliss unalloyed, 
unending. 

Fear not, then, pious believer ! Thou hast little 
to lose, and thou hast much to gain. Thou art 
tossed on a stormy ocean ; death shall convey thee 
to a still and peaceful shore. 

The clouds of doubt, and distrust, and fearful 
apprehension, often hang over thee, and hide from 
thee the light of God's countenance ; and intercept 
the bright rays of the Sun of Righteousness. The 
tempest of affliction beats upon thy head. The 
shades of night will descend upon thee. But fear 
thou not ! Death comes to dissipate the clouds of 
doubt, ^and distrust, and fearful apprehension; to 
still the tempest of affliction ; to chase away the 
shades of night; to restore to thee, forever, the 



190 



THE FEAR OF DEATH. 



light of God's countenance, and the bright rays of 
the Sun of Righteousness. 

4 And I saw no temple therein,' said the author 
of the Apocalypse, 'for the Lord God Almighty 
and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city 
had no need of the sun or the moon to shine in it, 
for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb 
is the light thereof. And the nations of them which 
are saved shall walk in the light of it ; and the 
gates of it shall no more be shut by day ; and there 
shall be no night there.' 

Blessed prospect ! To be freed from doubt, and 
to enjoy full, undoubting certainty. To be freed 
from error, and to be possessed of perfect, unadul- 
terated truth. To be freed from sorrow, and to par- 
take of full, unmingled joy. To be freed from sin, 
and to possess undeviating rectitude. To be freed 
from the fear and the darkness of death, and to be 
introduced to the undisturbed tranquillity, and un- 
veiled light of life. 

Blessed prospect ! beyond the reach of mortal 
ken, or the grasp of mortal mind ! Do not our souls 
desire it, and will they not aspire after it, and will 
they not seek it with intense and unremitting dili- 
gence ? 

What is there on earth to compare with the feli- 
city and glory of heaven ? — Poor, vain world ! Thy 
purest pleasures are mingled. Thy brightest glories 
are clouded. Thy highest honors are fading. Thy 
largest rewards are poor and scanty. Poor vain world! 
What hast thou to compare with the pleasures that 



THE FEAR OF DEATH. 



191 



flow at the right hand of God, — the glories that 
surround His throne ? 

What hast thou to compare with the crown of 
righteousness ; or what reward canst thou bestow 
that can equal the rewards of a blessed eternity? 

Ah wretched sinner ! Wilt thou, for the glittering 
baubles, the unsubstantial enjoyments, the poor 
rewards of earth, forfeit the joys, and the honors, 
and the glories of heaven ? — Wilt thou cast away 
thy hopes, and hug thy fetters, and remain in. 
wretched bondage forever ? 



192 



SERMON XXIX. 



THERE IS NO DEATH, NOR SORROW, NOR PAIN IN 
HEAVEN. 

Revelations xxi. 4. — there is no more death, neither, sorrow 

NOR CRYING, FOR THE FORMER THINGS HAVE PASSED AWAY. 

The greater part of the Apocalypse of St. John 
is involved in deep and impenetrable obscurity. It 
is a sealed book ; and no one has yet been allowed 
to open the seal, and disclose the contents* 

Many commentators, indeed, have attempted it, 
but they have rather ' darkened counsel by words 
without wisdom,' than elucidated what it appears 
to be the will of Providence, — as in regard to most 
of the prophetic books, — should be understood 
only in the fulfilment. 

But, whatever darkness may rest on the greater 



*In a correspondence which the author had with Dr. Adam 
Clarke, the commentator on the Bible, he was happy to find him- 
self corroborated in the opinion he had formed of the obscurity 
of the book of Revelations. Dr. Clarke declared himself utterly 
unable to comprehend it, and said he should say but little in the 
way of interpretation. ' What was said, would be said by his son, 
who would write the commentary on that book.' 



THERE IS NO DEATH, NOR SORROW, ETC. 193 

part of the book of the Revelations, there is a part 
which is written as with a sunbeam ; and it is 
enough to render this book of inestimable worth 
to every feeling and pious mind. I allude to the 
representation of the state of the blessed. 

It is more than a representation, if I may say so. 
It is a picture, complete and glowing, and animated, 
of their employments and felicities. 

I had nearly said it is still more ; for, so vivid, so 
lifelike, is the description, we almost seem to be 
admitted behind the scene ; to breathe the air of 
heaven ; to behold the 1 elders around the throne ; ' 
and to hear the acclamations of the redeemed. 

If the language is sometimes figurative, it is full 
of meaning ; if we are sometimes told that ' there 
is no more sea,' we are reminded that agitations 
and contentions have ceased ; or, if it is said that, 
in the place of the stormy, tempestuous ocean, there 
is ' a sea of glass,' it is a striking symbol of unin- 
terrupted peace and tranquillity. 

But the language of this book is not always 
figurative. It is sometimes plain, direct, and ex- 
plicit; coming home to the nature and condition, 
the necessities and hopes of man. Its import every 
understanding can comprehend, and its value every 
heart can feel. 

Of this nature is the language of the text. 
' There is no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, 
neither any more pain, for the former things have 
passed away.' 

It would be an insult to your understandings if I 

VOL. II. 17 



194 THERE IS NO DEATH, NOR SORROW, 

were to attempt to prove to you that man is mortal : 
that ' he dieth and wasteth away.' It is not a truth 
about which we may reason, and receive, or reject 
it, as the weight of evidence may incline to the one 
side or the other. It is a fact which is presented to 
the senses, and we cannot but see and know it. 
We may turn away, but it will meet us on the 
other side. We may shut our eyes, but we shall 
hear it in the sigh of agonized affection ; we shall 
feel it in the 4 aching void.' 
' There is no more death. 1 

Ye who, all your life-time, are ' subject to bondage 
by reason of death ' ! Behold a country where its 
ravages are unknown ; whence its fear is removed ; 
and be excited to secure an interest in i Him who 
has abolished death,' and delivered those who all 
their lifetime were subject to its bondage. 

' There is no more sorrow nor crying, neither any 
more pain. 1 

How various and multiplied are the sources of 
our trouble on earth ! As various and multiplied as 
the condition and circumstances of mankind. There 
is no cup without mixture. There is no web of life 
into which the threads of sorrow have not been 
woven. 4 Man is born to trouble.' The first sound 
which he utters is a cry of distress ; and the path 
on which he enters, and along which he must travel, 
is, amidst unnumbered blessings far outweighing 
the evils, — 1 a valley of tears.' In sorrow he enters 
life sorrow often wrings his heart in his passage 
through it, and sorrow attends the twilight, and 
closes the evening of his days. 



NOR PAIN IN HEAVEN. 



195 



Our body is the seat of infirmity and sickness. 
Wearisome days and nights are appointed us. 
4 Our bones are chastened with pain, and the multi- 
tude of our bones with strong pain.' 

The mind, too, must sustain its part of the bur- 
den. "Who has not felt the pangs of regret, or 
disappointment, or remorse ? "Whose heart has not 
bled for the distresses of others ? There is a prin- 
ciple of sympathy in our nature. It is the solace 
and the medicine of life. It doubles our joys; it 
lightens our toils ; it divides and lessens our sorrows. 

Yet, in this imperfect state, our kind affections 
are the sources of care and anxiety. Our happiness 
is closely interwoven with that of others, and every 
wound that pierces them, we feel in our own 
bosom. Can we witness the sorrow which weighs 
down the spirit of our friend, and not bear our part 
of the burden ? Can we mark the slow, perhaps, but 
unremitting progress of a consuming disease, and 
not be filled with anxiety and apprehension? Can 
we watch around the bed of death and behold the 
conflict with the last enemy, even though it be met 
with the composure of Christian resignation and 
hope, and not feel ourselves a bitterness little less 
dreadful than the bitterness of death ? 

Our text reveals to us a country where there is 
4 no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying,' where 
' all tears are wiped from all eyes.' 

The kind affections which, on earth, were the 
sources of anxiety and distress, will there be the 
sources of unmingled joy. There will be room for 



196 THERE IS NO DEATH, NOR SORROW, ETC. 



sympathy, but it will be sympathy only with the 
happy. We may ' rejoice with them who rejoice,' 
but to ' weep with them that weep ' is our duty and 
our privilege only on earth. 

How abundant is the consolation, my hearers, 
which our subject brings to us when sorrowing for 
the virtuous beloved from whom death hath divided 
us! They shall die no more. They shall suffer 
and sorrow no more. 

Look up, by faith, Christian mourner, to heaven. 
Enter, as thou art permitted thus to enter, the 
abodes of the blessed. Behold their felicity. Lis- 
ten to the sounds that strike thine ear. They are 
the notes of joy; the accents of praise. 'Blessing 
and glory and praise to Him that sitteth on the 
throne, and to the Lamb, who hath redeemed us to 
God, by his blood, out of every nation, and kindred, 
and people, and tongue.' 

And wouldst thou call them back to partake 
again of thy infirmities ; to share in thy griefs ; to 
be exposed again to the wants and sorrows of hu- 
manity ; to struggle with the temptations of an 
evil world ; to taste again the ( bitterness of death ' ? 

No ! Let thy faith console thee. Let it animate 
thee. Let it excite thee to trace the footsteps of 
the pious departed. "Whilst it carries thee up to 
contemplate their felicity, let it excite thee to aspire 
after it ; to strive for it ; and, by the grace of God, 
to attain it! 



197 



SERMON XXX. 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 

[Preached on Easter Sunday.] 
1 Corinthians, xv. 23. — christ the first fruits ; afterwards 

THEY THAT ARE CHRIST'S AT HIS COMING. 

Many of our fellow Christians, the past week, 
have set apart a day for the commemoration of the 
death of Jesus. They have turned back the eye 
of their faith to the awful scene of his sufferings. 
They have accompanied him from his sorrows and 
agonies in the garden, through the variety of dis- 
grace and pain, till 4 he bowed his head, and gave 
up the ghost.' They have seen him laid in the 
tomb ; and the ' stone rolled to the door of the se- 
pulchre.' 

To-day the scene is changed. They enter their 
churches with the voice of gladness. They have 
seen the stone rolled away from the door of 
the sepulchre. The tomb is empty. He whom 
they beheld the captive of death has burst his fet- 
ters, and come forth triumphant. They commemo- 
rate on this day his resurrection from the dead. 

It is not the rule of our church, — as of theirs, — 
to celebrate the festival of Easter; but we are glad 
17* 



198 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



of every opportunity to sound a note in unison 
with our Christian brethren. We are accustomed 
on the first Sabbath of the month to commemorate 
the sufferings and death of our Master, and on the 
first day of every week we assemble, as they do, in 
honor of his resurrection. But the resurrection of 
Christ is the keystone of our faith, and the anchor 
of our hope, as well of theirs, and we need never 
hesitate to manifest, on this theme, our % sympathy 
with them. 

To us, as well as to them, it is indeed a joyful 
theme. The resurrection of Christ is the confir- 
mation of his doctrine ; the demonstration of his 
mission from God. To this he appealed as such, 
and his predictions were fulfilled. 

Our faith is not a vain and airy fabric of the im- 
agination. It is erected on a firm and solid basis ; 
for the resurrection of Christ, on which it is built, 
is itself supported by incontrovertible testimony. It 
is supported by the testimony of those who have 
all the characteristics of credible witnesses; — by 
the testimony of friends who could not be deceived, 
and who had nothing to gain, but every thing to 
lose, by attempting to deceive others ; — by the tes- 
timony of enemies, who, with the utmost power in 
their hands, and the utmost malice in their hearts, 
were unable to allege any thing probable against its 
truth. 

I may add, with deep reverence, by the testimony 
of God, who accompanied the preaching of it with 
' signs and wonders,' and thus procured its triumph 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



199 



and advancement. It is supported by its effects on 
the apostles themselves, who, before this event, with 
a weak and tremulous faith, forsook their Master, 
and after this event, asserted their belief, and their 
attachment to him, with undaunted resolution. 
In short, its truth is supported by a weight of 
evidence which is sufficient, one would think, to 
force conviction on every candid mind. 

We may rejoice with our fellow Christians of every 
name in an event which certifies the truth of our 
common religion ; of all that it teaches concerning 
God and Christ ; concerning all that has been done 
and suffered for the deliverance and salvation of 
sinful man. We may rejoice; — for, if we have a 
true faith, — the faith of the heart, we may have 
' peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.' 

Nor is this all. We may rejoice with our fellow 
Christians in an event which is a pledge that we, 
too, shall rise again. 4 If Christ be risen, how say 
some among you,' asks the apostle, 6 that there is 
no resurrection from the dead ? ' Our future resus- 
citation is inseparably connected with the resuscita- 
tion of Jesus. As he rose from the dead, we shall 
rise. If we are his followers, certainly. If we are 
not his followers, perhaps as certainly. The text, 
indeed, and many other passages, appear to confine 
the resurrection to those who die in Christ. But in 
the passage before us, — and the same may proba- 
bly be said of all the others, — this was all that 
the occasion and his argument required. It is his 
purpose to support the faith of the Christians to 



200 • THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 

whom he wrote under the discouragements and per- 
secutions to which their profession exposed them ; 
that they might 1 be steadfast, immovable, always 
abounding in the work of the Lord.' Now, the 
proper argument to produce this effect was such as 
convinced them that their patience and resolution 
should be rewarded ; that their labor should ' not be 
in vain in the Lord.' 

But that the resurrection shall be general, we 
seem to have abundant assurance in other parts of 
Scripture. 6 All that are in their graves,' says the 
Saviour himself, 4 shall hear his voice and come 
forth ; they that have done good, to the resurrec- 
tion of life, and they that have done evil, to the 
resurrection of condemnation.' And in this very 
chapter, — to mention no more, — St. Paul infers a 
general resurrection of Christians from the resurrec- 
tion of Christ. 'As in Adam all died,' — the just 
and unjust, — ' so in Christ shall all be made alive.' 

' In Adam all died.' His mortal nature descended 
to his children. From them it has descended to us. 
From us it will descend to the latest generation. 
' But in Christ all shall be made alive.' 

If Christ had not risen, and it had not pleased 
God, in His mercy, to provide another ransom, the 
dominion of the grave would have been eternal. 
Nothing would have come to disturb its sleeping 
tenants ; nothing to dispel the shadows of the long, 
long night which enveloped them. When the in- 
exorable doors closed upon them, it would be for- 
ever. When they had once entered that prison-house, 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 201 

there would be no escape. They would lie down 
to rise no more. 

The eyes which had once been cheered by the light 
of day, and had gazed with rapture on the beauties 
of nature, would be closed to open no more. The 
ears which had been soothed and gladdened by the 
voice of friendship and affection, would be shut to 
open no more. 

The winter of the year might pass away, as it has 
now passed ; the spring might succeed it to clothe 
the earth with verdure, and cause it anew to bring 
forth and bud ; but an endless winter would reign 
in the dark domains of death. No spring would 
come, with its genial warmth and resuscitating in- 
fluence, to revive what had been buried there. ' There 
might be hope of a tree, if it were cut down, that 
it would sprout again, and that the tender branch 
thereof would not cease.' ' Though the root there- 
of wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die 
in the ground, yet, through the scent of water, it 
might bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant.' 
4 But man would lie down, and rise not,' even when 
' the heavens were no more.' ' No, he would not 
awake, nor be raised out of his sleep.' Generation 
after generation might come forward and act its part 
on the stage of life ; but when the scene was shift- 
ed, they would disappear forever. 

Such would have been the triumph of death, if 
Jesus had not risen from the grave. i But Jesus has 
risen, and become the first fruits of them that slept.' 
The trump of God shall sound, and the fetters of 



202 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 



the grave shall be rent asunder. The repose of 
the tomb shall be disturbed. < They that sleep in 
the dust of the earth shall awake.' At the voice of 
the archangel, thousands, and tens of thousands, 
shall rise to meet their Judge. 

Hearer ! Art thou prepared for this scene ? — It 
may open upon thee before thou art aware. Thou 
hast but a slender hold on life. Thy age is no se- 
curity. Thy health is no security. The remedies 
for disease are not infallible. The milder skies of 
a more southern clime may not revive thy drooping 
strength. The time is approaching, — it may be 
to-morrow or to-day, — when thou must take thy 
place with those who are laid in the grave. Art 
thou prepared for this event ? — Hast thou secured 
an interest in Him who hath vanquished death ? If 
Christ is the ' first fruits,' shalt thou rise afterwards 
as one ' that is Christ's, at his coming ? ' — Hearer ! 
thou hast a deeper interest in this than I can de- 
scribe to thee. Yes, than I could describe to thee, 
were I to speak with any other tongue than that of 
inspiration. Art thou living regardless of death and 
the resurrection, and the judgment that will fol- 
low? Art thou leaning upon the broken reed of 
earthly good, and not upon the Rock of Ages? 
Art thou seeking thy portion here, and neglecting 
to lay up treasures in heaven ? — Oh, that I might 
be blessed to awaken thee to a sense of thy condi- 
tion ! — to make thee feel how much thou hast to 
gain, and how much to forfeit ; to call thee back 
from the brink of the awful precipice on which thou 



THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 203 

art standing ! Hear me, for I speak the words of 
truth and soberness. Hear me, for I speak the 
words of earnest, affectionate solicitude for thy best 
welfare! Hear me, for I speak in the name of Him 
who died to save thee, and who rose, and has gone 
to intercede for thee. By the value of that 
soul which is immortal, and the retributions of 
that state which is eternal, i beseech thee to 

HEAR ME ! 



^ 



204 



SERMON XXXI. 



REGENERATION. 
John iii. 3. — except a man be born again, he cannot see the 

KINGDOM OE GOD. 

This declaration of our Saviour to Nicodemus 
has been the occasion of much perplexity, and not a 
little contention, in the Christian world. I shall be 
happy if any thing I now say will afford satisfaction 
to a serious inquirer. 

The expression ' born again ' is evidently figura- 
tive. It refers, not to the animal part of our nature, 
but to the principles and dispositions of the soul. 
In these, before a man can ' see,' or, as it is afterwards 
expressed, 6 enter ' into the kingdom of God, a re- 
markable change must be produced ; so great that 
it may be compared to the change that would hap- 
pen in the constitution of his body, if he should be 
born again, and reduced to his former state of 
infancy. 

I have more than once discoursed to you on 
the change that must take place in our moral 
condition, before we are in a state of prepara- 
tion for heaven. I have shown the importance of 



REGENERATION. 



205 



regeneration; its necessity; and how it is to be 
effected. 

But, notwithstanding this, I find with many some 
doubts and difficulties still lingering, disturbing, if 
not destroying, the enjoyment they would otherwise 
derive from religion, and keeping them back from 
the performance of religious duties. I find this 
with some who, in their temper and conduct, are 
giving the best evidence that they have experienced 
this change. I find them furnishing this evidence 
in the very anxiety they feel to be satisfied that a 
change has been wrought in them ; for an unregen- 
erate state, in its common acceptation, implies in- 
sensibility to the moral condition ; or at least no 
real desire that that condition should be altered. 

They have a vague impression that their feelings 
and views must be different from what they now 
are ; that a sensible, perceptible change must take 
place ; and that they must patiently wait till it pleases 
Him who 1 turneth the hearts of men, as the rivers of 
waters are turned,' to turn their hearts from sin to 
holiness, from earth to heaven. 

They are right in supposing that this change is 
required. Both reason and Scripture teach its ne- 
cessity. 

The infant of days, though the inspiration of 
the Almighty has given it understanding, is ap- 
parently a creature of sense and appetite. Its in- 
tellect is dormant ; there is the germ of knowledge, 
but it is not unfolded ; and how great is the change 
which will take place, when the powers are devel- 

VOL. II. 18 



206 



REGENERATION. 



ration. Every important acquisition is an important 
oped and cultivated. It is an intellectual regene- 
change. 

The infant of days is a moral being. It has a 
capacity for virtue and holiness. But what indi- 
cations are there of virtue and holiness, in its infant 
state ? There is the germ of virtue, but it is dor- 
mant ; how great a change, — a partial new 
birth, — will take place when its moral sense is in 
exercise, and its moral character formed ! If, by 
the blessing of God on a pious education, it is 
formed to piety, it will be a change from a state of 
nature to a state of grace. 

If evil habits have been contracted, and repent- 
ance awakened, and reformation effected, it will be 
a change from a state of sin to a state of grace. 

In the one case the change will be more sudden, 
and more perceptible and palpable, than in the 
other. In both cases a change has taken place ; 
and the change of state which now exists, is a 
necessary change. A state of grace is a state of 
holiness ; and ' without holiness no man can see 
the Lord.' 

And here is the evidence of the existence of this 
state. It is not a supernatural revelation : an ex- 
traordinary impulse ; an indescribable feeling or 
sensation, which gives the evidence. We have the 
4 witness in ourselves,' — in the temper of our 
minds, and the tenor of our conduct. 1 If ye 
know that He is righteous, ye know that every one 
that doeth righteousness is born of Him ! ' If the 
fruit is good, the tree must be good. If the stream 



REGENERATION. 



207 



is pure, the fountain must be pure. Grapes do not 
grow on the thorn-tree, nor figs on the thistle. 

At noon-day we have no doubt of the existence 
of the sun, though it may be obscured by clouds. 
In the light which surrounds us, we see and feel 
the effect, though we behold not the cause. 

It is thus when the Sun of Righteousness has 
shone into the heart. We perceive it in the vivify- 
ing influences ; in the light which it imparts ; in the 
virtues and graces to which it gives life, and strength 
and activity. 

Here, I think, is an answer to those who inquire 
if they must not know the precise time and manner 
of their being first enlightened and renewed. You 
perceive and feel the effect of the wind, and you 
know little more than this. You speak your native 
language, and you have thus a proof that you have 
learned it ; but who of you can remember the time 
and manner of its acquisition ? 

It may be thus in religion. If you perceive the 
effect in yourselves, you need not doubt the cause. 
If you have < the testimony of your own conscience, 
that in simplicity and godly sincerity you have your 
conversation in the world,' it may be to you a cause 
of ' rejoicing,' as it was to the apostle ; for it is an 
evidence that you are a child of God. ' The fruit 
of the Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness 
and truth.' If you have the testimony of your con- 
science that you are better than you have been ; that 
you are more serious and thoughtful about religion 
than you were, and more anxious to fulfil its requi- 



208 



REGENERATION. 



sitions, a change has taken place in you ; and thus 
far, you are regenerated. 

If you have been converted from vice and wick- 
edness to virtue and holiness, you must have strong 
convictions, and fears, and pangs of remorse ; and 
these must be objects of remembrance as long as 
you live. But here the effect must be gradual. 
Conviction is not conversion. You are on the 
brink of a precipice, and have been arrested ; but 
you must go back ; painfully retrace your steps ; 
enter on a new and safer path, and pursue it. 

You have much to unlearn, and much to learn. 
You have bad principles to eradicate, and good 
principles to gain. You have bad habits to discard, 
and good habits to acquire. 

Y'ou have come to God ; but you must £ acquaint 
yourself with God.' You are awakened to the 
necessity of righteousness ; but you must ' follow 
after righteousness.' On the other hand, if you 
have had early instruction in piety, and profited by 
it ; if, like the disciple and convert of St. Paul, you 
have been taught the Scriptures from your child- 
hood, and by the grace of God have learned and 
practised them, you may not remember the com- 
mencement of the spiritual life ; though you must 
remember much of unworthiness, and must still be 
conscious of it. 

I have used the terms a state of nature, and a 
state of grace, in conformity with the language of 
the Christian "World. It is language familiar to 
many of you. The question, What is our moral 



REGENERATION. 



209 



state by nature ? is rather curious than useful. The 
most important inquiry is, What we are by prac- 
tice? what is our present state? 

It is thought by many that we are depraved by 
nature ; and that the conviction of this depravity 
should occasion penitential sorrow. There is much 
cause for penitential sorrow, if we have corrupted our 
own ways and made ourselves sinful. We are not 
accustomed to repent of the natural deformity of our 
persons, or of any tendency to debility or disease 
which we have inherited from our progenitors. If, 
by our own misconduct, we have brought these evils 
upon ourselves, there is cause indeed for sorrow, 
though sorrow may be unavailing. 

It is thus with our moral condition. If we are 
sinners by nature, it is not of ourselves that we are 
so. If we are sinners by practice, it is our own 
fault, and we cannot too deeply repent, or too dili- 
gently engage in reformation. 

It is supposed by some that the declaration of 
our Saviour in the text, has reference to those who 
would become converts to Christianity, and be re- 
ceived into the kingdom he had come to establish 
on earth, which is often designated in Scripture, as 
the £ kingdom of God ; ' that when he said 6 Except 
a man be born again, he cannot enter the kingdom 
of God,' he alludes to the radical change which must 
take place in the principles and dispositions of those 
who should embrace his religion. 

This opinion certainly receives countenance from 
a declaration in a subsequent verse. ' Except a 
18* 



210 



REGENERATION. 



man be bom of water and of the Spirit,' that is, 
except he receive the ordinance of baptism, which 
is the initiatory rite, and be possessed of a spiritual 
temper, he cannot become a member of the Chris- 
tian church. It is also supposed to receive counte- 
nance from the fact, that the same phrase ' born 
again ' is used by the Jews in reference to those 
who had become converts to Judaism ; which may 
account for the surprise expressed by our Saviour, 
that Nicodemus, who was a Jew, should not at 
once have comprehended him. 1 Art thou a master 
in Israel, and knowest not these things ? ' 

To conclude. A change, then, must take place 
from a state of nature, to a state of grace and 
holiness. The evidence of this change is to be 
found in our disposition and conduct. This change 
is regeneration. It is effected gradually; and to 
many, its commencement may not have been known- 
In effecting it there must be a union of human 
labor and divine illumination ; the Spirit of God 
rendering effectual the efforts of man. 

Let us examine ourselves, my hearers, to see 
whether this change has taken place in us. If not, 
let us pray for it, and labor for it. 

If we desire it, it has begun : and it is by the 
use of means, with God's blessing, that it is to be 
carried on to perfection. 



211 



SERMON XXXII. 



PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 

Acts via. 37. — if thou believest with all thy heart, thou 

MAYEST. 

I have read to you this afternoon the history of 
the conversion of the treasurer of Ethiopia through 
the instrumentality of Philip the Evangelist. 

It presents us an instance of candor and diligence 
in the investigation of truth, and of the efficacy of 
religion in promoting the happiness of those who 
embrace it. 

The Ethiopian was already a convert to Judaism ; 
and had come up to Jerusalem, at the season of 
one of the great festivals of the Jewish church, to 
worship. His Bible was the companion of his 
journey. 

In order to preserve alive the flame of devotion 
which had been kindled in his breast by the holy 
services of the temple in Jerusalem, as he return- 
ed, he read, in his chariot, the book of the pro- 
phet Isaiah. 

The Providence of God, which watches over all 



212 



PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 



events, had, doubtless, directed the subject of his 
reading, and now sends an interpreter. 

The evangelist Philip, driven by persecution 
from Jerusalem, was travelling in the desert, and 
was directed by the Spirit of God to join himself 
to the Ethiopian treasurer, who was reading the 
fifty-third chapter of Isaiah when the evangelist 
joined him. 

It is a remarkable chapter, — apart from the im- 
portance of its momentous subject, — so remarka- 
ble, that I shall digress, for a moment, "to dwell 
upon it. 

It is a prophecy of the sufferings and death of 
the Messiah ; but, from the form of expression, 
assumes much the appearance of a history of those 
events. 

i Wrapt into future times,' in the spirit of pro- 
phecy, the scene comes up so vividly to the pro- 
phet's view, that it appears as if the fearful tragedy 
was enacted before him. He seems to forget 
himself, and changes the form of expression from 
the future to the present tense. ' He is despised 
and rejected of men ; a man of sorrows, and ac- 
quainted with grief.' 

The whole scene passes before him. The pa- 
tient sufferer, ' led as a lamb to the slaughter,' is 
crucified and slain. The scene closes, and the 
prophet speaks of it as a thing gone by. ' Surely 
he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows. 
He was wounded for our transgressions, and 
bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our 



PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 



213 



peace was on Him, and by his stripes we are 
healed. All we like sheep have gone astray ; and 
the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us 
all. He was oppressed and he was afflicted, yet 
he opened not his mouth ; he is brought as a lamb 
to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers 
is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. He was 
taken from prison and from judgment; and who 
shall declare his generation ? for he was cut off out 
of the land of the living ; for the transgression of 
my people was he stricken. And he made his 
grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his 
death ; because he had done no violence, neither 
was any deceit in his mouth. Yet it pleased the 
Lord to bruise him ; He hath put him to shame.' 

The Ethiopian asks from Philip an explanation 
of the prophecy, and receives it. 

He listened with meekness and candor to the 
instructions of the evangelist ; became a convert to 
Christianity, and ' went on his way rejoicing.' 

No portion of Scripture could have furnished a 
more appropriate text for the expounder, and, if it 
had not already employed the attention of his dis- 
tinguished pupil, he would have done well to begin 
1 at this same Scripture ' when he would ' preach to 
him Jesus.' 

We have not even an abridgment of Philip's ex- 
position. 

We may suppose, however, that he discoursed of 
the nature and offices of Christ ; of the design of 
his coming into the world ; and of the influence 



214 



PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 



which his religion ought to exert upon the hearts 
and lives of those who should embrace it. 

It is evident that he instructed him in the nature 
of one, at least, and probably of both, the institu- 
tions of Christianity, for, as soon as he is a believer, 
he desires to receive the badge of discipleship, and 
to be received to the Christian community by the 
rite of baptism. ' See, here is water, what doth 
hinder that I should be baptized ? ' 

The reply of Philip was such as we might have 
expected it would be : 'If thou believest with all 
thy heart, thou mayest.' 

We then have his profession of faith. And 
what is it? Does it consist of a long enumeration 
of articles such as in later times have often been 
made the condition of Christian communion ? Far 
from it. ' I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of 
God.' 

We are all the children of God. We were 
created by Him; — we bear His image, however 
defaced by transgression. 

But more than this, far more than this, was 
intended by this confession. 

By the phrase 4 Son of God ' was understood, by 
the Jews, the Messiah foretold by the prophets ; the 
Redeemer ; the Saviour. ' We have a law,' said the 
Jews to Pilate, ' and by our law he ought to die, 
because he made himself the Son of God,' that is, 
because he made himself the Messiah, the prophet 
that was to come. 

So familiar was this appellation of the Son of 



PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 



215 



God who was expected, that the Romans were 
not ignorant of it. The centurion, and they that 
were with him, attending the crucifixion of Jesus, 
when they saw the earthquake, and those things 
that were done, exclaimed, ' Truly this was the Son 
of God.' 

Such was the confession of this new believer; 
and from this confession we may judge of the 
nature of Philip's preaching. 

On its being made, they alighted from the chariot, 
and went down into the water, both Philip and the 
Ethiopian, and he baptized him. 

The words in this passage rendered £ into ' and 
i out of,' might, with as much propriety, have been 
rendered to and from; and have actually thus been 
rendered, by the same translators, in other parts of 
Scripture. It is of small importance, however, 
whether the Ethiopian received this rite by immer- 
sion, as it is administered by the Antipedo Bap- 
tists, ( the opposers of infant baptism,) or sprinkling, 
as the Pedo Baptists administer it, or by affusion, 
as is practised by the Greek Church. 

It is not the form, but the thing signified by that 
form, that is of importance. 

Our religion was designed to be universal ; and its 
institutions, in their simplicity, in the fewness of 
their number, and in the want of any special direc- 
tions as to the mode of administering them, are 
adapted to that design. 

Whatever mode, under existing circumstances, is 



216 



PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 



the most convenient, and desirable, is the most 
proper. 

Baptism by immersion could not ordinarily be 
administered to the sick or the aged, in the midst of 
winter, without hazard to the life of the recipient ; 
and we can conceive of various circumstances 
which might render that mode of administering it 
inexpedient, or impracticable. 

For myself, I am free to say that I have not a 
bigoted attachment to our own mode; but am 
willing to use either. 

It appears, then, that the belief which is requisite 
in order to admission to the Church of Christ, — 
for it is by baptism, and not by a reception of the 
Lord's Supper, that we are admitted to that Church, 
— is an assent to the fact, that Jesus Christ is the 
Son of God, the promised Redeemer. 

How much is included in this character of Jesus, 
why he came, and what he hath done for us, it is 
for each one to satisfy himself by a diligent study 
of his Bible. 

But is an assent to the simple truth that Jesus 
Christ is the Son of God, the only requisite to our 
participation of Christian privileges, and of all the 
blessings of that salvation which the Redeemer has 
4 purchased with his blood'? Is not 'repentance 
towards God,' as much required as 'faith in the 
Lord Jesus Christ ? ' Was not this the uniform 
language of our Saviour, and his apostles ? and 
is it not expressly declared that ' without holiness, 
no man shall see the Lord ? ' 

If we revert to the language of Philip in the 



PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 



217 



text, we shall find it in perfect harmony with these 
declarations ; as indeed all the declarations of Scrip- 
ture are really in harmony with one another. ' If 
thou believest ivith all thy heart, thou mayest.' 
' It is not enough that thou yieldest the assent of 
thy understanding to the fact that Jesus is the 
Messiah; thou must yield also the assent of thy 
heart ; thou must feel this important truth, in order 
to thy being a true disciple of Jesus, and worthy of 
admission to his kingdom.' 

This, my friends, is not the least important, nor 
the least difficult part of religion. The truth of 
our religion is built upon the most solid foundation. 
It is impossible, one would think, for any one to 
examine, with candor, its evidence, and refuse his 
assent. 

But it is one thing to acknowledge the truth of 
Christianity, and another to feel its influence. 
' With the heart man believeth unto righteousness,' 
and then with ' the tongue maketh confession unto 
salvation.' 

We may have 'faith enough to remove moun- 
tains,' and zeal enough to become martyrs for our 
faith ; and yet may be destitute of that faith and 
zeal which will render us acceptable to God. 4 Not 
every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall 
enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that 
doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.' 

The faith required, is a « faith that worketh by 
love ; ' a faith that produces the fruits of righteous- 
ness ; a faith that makes us more humble ; more 

VOL. II. 19 



218 



PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 



self-denying ; more forgiving ; more patient ; more 
submissive ; more devout ; more ready to do, and 
suffer, the will of God. 

Such is the faith which will render us the true 
disciples of the blessed Jesus, for such was his 
character; and it is a faith of more worth than 
an assent to the longest creed that was ever drawn 
up, however wise the head, or pious the heart that 
framed it. 

How often have I witnessed the operation of 
this faith on those who knew nothing of systems 
of theology which have unhappily divided and 
distracted the Christian world; who knew only 
that their Bible was the Word of God ; who found 
in that a Saviour ; and, however rugged the path of 
their pilgrimage of life, like the Ethiopian treasurer, 
went on their way rejoicing. 

May it be ours to possess the same faith, that we 
may be partakers of the same joy ! 



219 



SERMON XXXIII. 



CHARGE AT THE INSTALLATION OF A MINISTER. 

In the solemn hour of retirement, my brother, 
you have meditated on the nature and importance 
of the sacred office. When bowing your knees 
to 1 the God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ,' you have felt and acknowledged your in- 
sufficiency. With unutterable emotions you have 
looked forward to the day when you should be in- 
vested with the pastoral office, and intrusted with 
the care of immortal souls. 

That day, — the day to which so many anxious 
thoughts had been turned, and on which so many 
ardent, yet trembling hopes were suspended, — at 
length arrived. You became a minister of Jesus 
Christ ; the pastor of a Christian church. 

You do not come hither, a novice, to be instructed 
in the rudiments of ministerial duty. You have 
already been invested with the sacred office ; you 
have received the solemn charge ; you have had the 
care of immortal souls, and you come here fraught, 
in some measure, with the lessons of experience. 



220 



CHARGE AT AN INSTALLATION. 



Why, then, should I take upon me to teach you 
what you may be supposed already to know ; to 
inculcate duties you have already been called to 
fulfil ? 

' They that feared the Lord spake often one to 
another,' and it can never be unsuitable for Chris- 
tians, and especially for Christian ministers, ' to stir 
up each other's minds, by way of remembrance.' 

More especially is it appropriate on an occasion 
like the present ; and much does it add to its 
solemnity and impressiveness for an elder to ex- 
hort a younger brother ; for one around whom the 
shadows of evening are beginning to descend, to 
admonish him who has labored only in the morning, 
and has not yet borne 6 the burden and heat of the 
day.' 

My charge to you might be comprehended in 
two words. Be faithful. Faithful to God who 
has put you into the ministry ; and, amidst conflict- 
ing doubts respecting duty, has overruled, as we 
trust, your decision, and sent you to labor in this 
vineyard ; faithful to the souls, which, in this solemn 
hour, are committed to your care ; faithful to your- 
self who have been endowed with ministerial gifts, 
and must render an account of the manner in which 
you employ them. 

Whatever of active duty, whatever of private 
study, whatever of meditation, watchfulness and 
prayer, is requisite to this end, neglect not. 

4 Take heed to your ministry that you fulfil it ; ' 
to your instructions, that they be ' drawn from the 



CHARGE AT AN INSTALLATION. 



221 



oracles of God ; to your example, that it be ' such 
as becometh the gospel of Christ.' 

Belong to no theological party, as such. "What- 
ever opinions you may hold in speculative theology, 
be careful to inculcate religion, and let your life be 
a transcript of the holy doctrine you teach. 

Like the eastern shepherds, lead your flocks. 
Mark, with your own footsteps, the path to heaven. 
Remember that ' Holiness to the Lord ' was the in- 
scription on the breast-plate of the high priest, who 
was appointed by God. 

Visit from house to house. You have the ex- 
ample of an eminent apostle for this. You have 
the example of your Lord and Master for it. * He 
went about doing good.' 

Twice, at least, every year, — and I care not how 
much oftener, where it can be done to good purpose, 
and not encroach on necessary duties, — twice every 
year have affectionate ministerial intercourse with 
every family in your charge. Let your stated visits 
always, and your occasional visits as much as pos- 
sible, serve for edification. Carry the message which 
you have received, as an ambassador for Christ, into 
every house. It is your duty, and, — I now say it 
in the hearing of your people, — it will be a bless- 
ing to them if you do so. 

Be often, when the providence of God calls you 
to it, ' beside the bed where parting life is laid.' Be 
especially attentive to the sick and sorrowful. In 
the alarming hour, when the shades thicken, and 
4 the feet stumble on the dark mountains,' be you 
19* 



222 



CHARGE AT AN INSTALLATION. 



at hand to counsel, to warn, to console, as the occa- 
sion may require ; to point the sinner to the awful 
retributions of eternity, and to open, on the eye of 
faith, the bright visions^ of heaven. 

In the hour of affliction, when a pillar of support 
has failed ; when vain hopes deceive no longer ; 
when every proud, rebellious passion is silenced; 
when a cloud hangs over the world; when every 
avenue to the heart is open, be you at hand to 
pour instruction and consolation into the bleeding 
spirit. 

In the season of spiritual distress, when the 1 ter- 
rors of the Lord' set themselves in array against 
the guilty, or when despondency and despair take 
hold on the timid, feeble soul, be you at hand to 
apply the healing balm to the wounded conscience ; 
to administer strength to i the weak hands, and 
feeble knees, and fearful in heart.' 

Be thus the confidential counsellor, the affection- 
ate, sympathizing friend of your people ; rejoicing 
in all their joys, and in all their afflictions afflicted, 
that when ' the eye sees you it may bless you, and 
when the ear hears you it may bear witness to 
you.' 

To this end, give yourself wholly to the work. 
' Be instant, in season and out of season.' ' Watch 
for souls, as one that must give an account.' 

Thus we charge you. Before this assembly who 
are the witnesses of this solemn transaction ; before 
the angels who are ministering spirits to the church 
of God ; before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, 



CHARGE AT AN INSTALLATION. 



223 



who shall judge the quick and dead at his appear- 
ing, we charge you. 

By the mercies of God ; by the blood of Christ 
which was shed for the redemption of a sinful 
world ; by the worth of your own soul, and of these 
precious immortal souls which are intrusted to your 
ministerial watch and guidance ; by the solemnities 
of this occasion, and the vows of God that are upon 
you ; we charge you to ' take heed to this ministry,' 
to ' take heed to yourself.' 

In this day, when our churches are rent by di- 
visions, when £ the love of many has waxed cold ; ' 
when the voice of the scoffer is heard, ' Where is 
the promise of his coming ? ' when the book of 
nature and the book of grace are so often reading 
their heavenly lessons in vain ; when the under- 
standing, which is itself an impress of the divinity, 
is employed in denying the Inspiration that gave it ; 
when freedom of thought and action is tending to 
licentiousness ; how much have the ministers of 
religion to do, even to bear up, under God, the ark 
of the Lord. How much more to bring into, and 
keep in it, from the beast of prey, from the noisome 
pestilence, from the whelming flood of ungodliness, 
the immortal souls committed to their care ! 

Whilst you think of these things, does not ' the 
fire burn within you ? ' and will it not impel you 
unreservedly, laboriously, zealously, to devote your- 
self to this good cause, this high and holy call- 
ing? 

It is known neither to you nor me, what trials 



224 



CHARGE AT -AN INSTALLATION. 



are before you. ' Fear God,' and you will have 
nothing else to fear. 

It must needs be that you will have occasion 
often to adopt the plaintive language of the prophet, 
4 I have labored in vain and spent my strength for 
nought ; ' that some seeds will ' fall by the wayside 
and be trodden under foot of men,' some among 
thorns, c and be choked ; ' some ' upon a rock, where 
there is no depth of earth ; ' but it will also be that 
of that which fell by the wayside, some will be 
pressed into the earth, and will not die ; of that 
w^hich fell among thorns, some will not be choked, 
but swell and unfold itself ; and that that which fell 
on a rock will find a crevice where there is good 
soil, and will germinate and bring forth fruit unto 
everlasting life. ' If we hope for that we see not, 
then do we patiently wait for it.' The husbandman 
tarrieth long, and is patient for the early and the 
latter rain. 

Be thou also patient, and thy labor will not be 
in vain in the Lord. In due time you will reap, if 
you faint not. ' Be faithful unto death, and you 
will receive a crown of life.' 

Go forth, then, my brother, in the name and 
strength of the Lord. Long may you live, ap- 
proving yourself faithful; and, having finished your 
course with joy, have many of this people, their 
children, and the children yet to be born, as your 
joy and crown in the day of Christ's appearing. 



225 



SERMON XXXIY. 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 
Matthew xxvi. 31. — then saith jesus unto them, all ye shall 

BE OFFENDED BECAUSE OF ME THIS NIGHT ; FOR IT IS WRITTEN, 
I WILL SMITE THE SHEPHERD, AND THE SHEEP OF THE FLOCK 
SHALL BE SCATTERED ABROAD. 

I consider these words as worthy of particular 
notice ; not merely as containing a prediction which 
was literally fulfilled, but as connected with the 
commemorative rite which had just been observed ; 
and with the character, and subsequent conduct of 
those who had received it at the hands of Jesus 
Christ, 

The words were spoken after, and probably im- 
mediately after, the institution of the Lord's Sup- 
per, which had been administered by Jesus himself 
to his disciples. 

I say to his disciples. It is probable, however, 
that Judas had gone out, and that eleven only were 
present. Indeed, Judas was excluded by the very 
terms of the institution, as he was soon by his own 
act, — and this was well known to our Saviour, — 
to render himself incapable of partaking of it. 



226 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



To eleven of the disciples, then, Jesus himself 
gave it in charge to commemorate him in the ordi- 
nance of the Supper ; and, immediately after, fore- 
warned them that they would all desert him at a 
time when he would stand most in need of their 
presence and support. 

i All ye shall be ofTended because of me this 
night ; for it is written, I will smite the Shepherd, 
and the sheep shall be scattered abroad.' 

It was the night of his agony. It was the night 
of his apprehension, when he was to be betrayed 
into the hands of his enemies ; and, in this night, 
they whom he had chosen from among the multi- 
tude of mankind to be his associates and friends, 
were to forsake him, to leave him to suffer alone. 
One of them, and he, too, the most ardent in his 
protestations of attachment, was to deny, with 
asseverations and oaths, that he knew him. 

Such were the first celebrators of the Lord's Sup- 
per. Such were they to whom the Saviour admin- 
istered the ordinance with his own hand. 

I present them thus to you, my hearers, not, as 
you must well know, as, in this respect, examples, 
— in as far as they can be, — for those who come 
after them ; not as an encouragement to communi- 
cants to be inconsistent in their conduct with their 
profession ; no ! but to show that, at the com- 
mencement, as it is now, and must always be, they 
who joined in this rite were frail, erring mortals ; 
weakest when they relied most on their strength ; 
and betrayed into danger and sin by their own con- 
fidence of safety. 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



227 



These are facts which, one would suppose, would 
serve to quiet many of the apprehensions that are 
felt on this subject ; and to correct ±he impression 
that a thorough, radical change must take place in 
the character before we may venture to partake of 
the LokI's Supper ; that an entire victory over the 
world must be obtained ; and a habit of self-denial 
confirmed. 

Did our Saviour require this ? Why then did he 
admit the disciples to the first celebration of the 
ordinance, and enjoin them to continue to observe 
it in memory of him ? 

Had such a change taken place in the disciples ? 
Had they obtained this victory over the world ; this 
habit of self-denial; this self-devotion to Christ, 
and his religion? 

So far from it, that we find that almost in the 
same breath with which he appointed this celebra- 
tion, he admonished them of their fall. 

Aware of their weakness and danger, for the 
same reason that he exhorted them to watch and 
pray, he instituted this memorial ; to revive in their 
minds, when he should be no longer with them, the 
recollections of his instructions, and his life ; all 
that he had done, and all that he had suffered for 
them. 

It was appointed, not for those who had already 
attained, but for those who were still struggling 
with temptation and sin; who had much to do, 
and had need of much aid to enable them them to 
do it. It was a staff to support them ; a panoply 



228 



THE LORD'S SUPPER, 



to protect them ; a monitor to guide and quicken 
them, in their pilgrimage of duty and trial. 

True, they were to forsake him in the time of his 
greatest need; they were to forsake him at the 
moment when he was most strikingly exhibiting his 
love for them; but the time would come when 
these simple, yet expressive emblems of his 4 body 
broken and his blood shed ' for them, would speak 
to their hearts in a language which could not be 
resisted. The time would come when these simple 
emblems would fill them with shame and sorrow 
for their weakness and cowardice, in basely desert- 
ing him ; and nerve them with strength and courage 
to follow him to prison and to death. 

Such was, doubtless, the design of this ordi- 
nance. An instrument of spiritual good. The 
means, and not the end. 

It was Jesus who appointed it ; and to him, and 
those who were instructed immediately by him, we 
must look for information respecting its nature and 
design. 

The language of Jesus, in its institution, is, 
4 This do in remembrance of me.' The language 
of an apostle who received it from him, is, ' as 
often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do 
shew forth the Lord's death till he come ; ' lan- 
guage, I may remark, that indicates the intended 
perpetuity of the rite. 

The Lord's Supper, then, is simply a memorial of 
Jesus Christ. Divested of the load which human 
expositions have laid upon it; stripped of the 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



229 



appendages with which human ingenuity and 
superstition have arrayed it; it is nothing more nor 
less than a commemoration of the sufferings and 
death of Jesus Christ. It is a history conveyed by 
sensible objects to the eye, which, of all the senses, 
has the quickest commerce with the soul. It is a 
lively picture, presenting to mankind, in all ages, a 
representation of the most interesting transaction 
that has ever taken place ; and in which all man- 
kind have a deep concern. 

From our natural weakness and levity, we often 
forget, and often receive with indifference, the most 
important truths which are addressed to our un- 
derstandings through the medium of language only, 
without the aid of sensible signs. 

Men in all ages, indeed, have been so fully aware 
of this, that they have always employed some 
sensible sign to perpetuate the remembrance of 
splendid achievements, of memorable events, of 
important services to themselves and their country. 
Hence the statues, the public monuments, the 
solemn festivals; designed to speak to the eyes, 
and to move the soul through the channel of the 
senses. 

Too often, it is true, these ceremonies have 
only served to consecrate the vices, and the pride of 
men ; the ravages of conquerors, who were the dis- 
grace and scourge of the earth. But the principle 
is founded in our nature, in the feelings of our 
hearts, which need to be excited by sensible objects. 

We have here the reason for the institution of 
vol. ii. 20 



230 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



the Lord's Supper. It was unquestionably the 
design of our Saviour, as I have intimated, to pre- 
sent in this institution, a complete, though hasty, 
picture of all he had done and suffered for us. 

The bread broken, and the wine poured out, 
which signify nothing of themselves, are visible 
symbols of his body broken and his blood shed for 
us. 

We are so constituted that the objects which call 
up one idea to the mind, call up a train of relative 
and dependent ideas. They are often presented at 
once, or in a succession so rapid that they cannot 
be perceived; and affect us the more sensibly that 
they come thus together, and not by repeated efforts 
of the mind. 

The smallest relic of a once valued friend calls 
up a history to remembrance on which the heart, 
however much it may be agonized, delights to 
dwell. 

It is thus with the Lord's Supper. These sym- 
bols are tokens of love that were left us by our 
Lord Jesus Christ. How visibly and impressively 
do they bring to the mind and heart of the thought- 
ful communicant the affecting history, the beneficent 
design, and the momentous consequences, of the 
incarnation of his Lord and Saviour ! How pow- 
erfully do they excite to feelings of sympathy and 
love towards fellow communicants, fellow Chris- 
tians, a — all mankind ; . — to penitential sorrow, and 
resolutions of holy living ! 

In the first ages of the Church, all Christian 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



231 



believers were communicants. The Lord's Supper 
was a positive institution of Christianity, and it 
would have been deemed a great inconsistency for 
believers in Christianity to neglect any of its insti- 
tutions. 

The Lord's Supper made a part of the religious 
service of the first day in the week. A description 
of this service is given by an early father of the 
Church, and, as it may gratify you, I repeat it. 

' On the day called Sunday, all of us meet in 
one place, where the writings of the apostles and 
prophets are read; exhortations are given; psalms 
and hymns are sung ; and we offer our joint prayers. 
Then bread and wine are brought, and after repeat- 
ed prayers by the president, to which the people 
answer amen, it is distributed through the congre- 
gation, and alms are collected for the use of the 
poor.' 

' The reason,' he adds, 1 why we all meet on 
Sunday, is, that this is the first day when God 
created the world, and on which our Saviour Jesus 
Christ rose from the dead.' 

Such was the obedience of the first Christians to 
the rules of the Gospel, though this obedience was 
punishable with death. 

As it was in the beginning of Christianity, so it 
should be now. All Christian believers should be 
communicants, and thns manifest their consistency, 
as well as their gratitude and love to Him whose 
name they bear, by their obedience. 

If love the most disinterested demands a return ; 



232 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



if benefits the most substantial give a claim to grati- 
tude ; if authority the most exalted has a right to 
obedience ; then is Jesus Christ entitled to the love, 
gratitude, and obedience of Christians. 

All those who believe in Christ, then, I repeat it, 
should be communicants. It is a public avowal of 
their faith in Christ, and it is fit that they should 
thus ' confess him before men.' It is an act of 
obedience to his positive command, — the last 
charge he left upon his Church before he suffered. 
It is an observance of an institution, eminently 
adapted to promote the spiritual benefit of those 
who observe it. 

Christian believers should come to the Lord's 
Supper, not hastily and inconsiderately, but with 
serious preparation of heart, with deep repentance 
for sin, and earnest purposes of holy obedience. 
They come to commemorate him who gave his life 
a sacrifice for sin ; and they should come with a 
' godly sorrow which worketh repentance.' They 
come to commemorate benefits of inestimable 
worth ; and they should come with fervent gratitude 
and strong affection. They come to commemorate 
the most pure and holy Being that ever appeared on 
earth ; and they should come with the resolution to 
transcribe into their own life, as far as they can, the 
lineaments of the spotless character they are to 
contemplate in this ordinance. 

Christian believer ! If thou art not a communi- 
cant, reflect, I beseech thee, on the inestimable 
blessings which Christianity has conferred upon 



THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



233 



thee, and then ask thyself, whether He, who de- 
scended from ineffable glory in heaven, and became a 
suffering pilgrim on earth to bring thee these bless- 
ings, — who lived and died to save thee, — is not 
entitled to thy obedience, and worthy of thy 
commemoration in this ordinance of his own ap- 
pointment. 

Look at thy condition, and contrast it with that 
of the benighted heathen, the slave of superstition, 
worshipping the work of his own hands, or the 
vilest reptiles, or beings whom he has invested with 
the most terrific and disgusting attributes, and whom 
he seeks to appease by the most degrading rites. 

Art thou a parent ? And why is it that thou art 
not doing violence to the feelings of thy nature by 
sacrificing thy children to some imaginary deity, 
unrelenting, revengeful, who will be propitiated 
only by the blood of these innocent victims ? 

Art thou a man ? And why is it that thou art 
permitted to assert thy native dignity, and to culti- 
vate the noble powers with which the Creator has 
endowed thee; and how is it that thou art enjoying 
the blessings of civilization and rational liberty ? 

Art thou a woman ? And how is it that thou 
art elevated from the low and servile state in 
which unenlightened heathenism has placed thee, 
to be the companion and the friend of man ? 

Art thou a sinner ? And where dost thou find 
thy hope of mercy ? Art thou the heir of sorrow, 
and where dost thou look for consolation ? Art 
thou mortal, and what is it that has dispelled 
20* 



234 



THE LORD'S SUPPER 



the darkness which enveloped the ' valley of the 
shadow of death ? ' Art thou immortal, and where 
hast thou learned thy nature and thy destiny ? 

There is but one answer to all this ; and if thou 
art faithful to thy own convictions, Christian be- 
liever, it is the answer thou wilt give to thyself. 
6 It is Christianity which has made me to differ from 
the poor benighted heathen. It is Christianity 
which has elevated me to my present condition; 
saved me from doing cruel violence to the feelings 
of my nature by the immolation of my offspring 
on the altar of superstition ; informed me how I 
may obtain mercy and find forgiveness ; opened to 
me a source of consolation ; dispelled the darkness 
of the grave ; taught me that I am immortal, and 
may aspire after an immortality of blessedness.' 

Why art thou not now, then, manifesting thy 
gratitude by thy obedience? Why art thou not 
performing this service in memory of Him who has 
done so much for thee ? a service which He himself 
enjoined, standing, as it were, on the verge of the 
grave, in the close of a life devoted to thy best 
interests ; the interests of human kind. 

Hast thou received the ordinance ctf baptism ? 
Thou art then a member of the Church of Christ, 
and consistency requires of thee not to neglect a 
positive institution of that Church. Art thou con- 
scious of sin ? Repent and come to the Lord's 
table, that thou mayest be strengthened and con- 
firmed in thy repentance. 

Hast thou any fears of mysteries to alarm thee ? 



THE LORD'S SUPPER 



235 



Come and discover that there are none. Dost thou 
suffer affliction ? Come and behold the sufferings of 
Him who was ' a man of sorrows and acquainted 
with grief,' and who drank with meek submission a 
cup of sorrow, far more bitter than can be mingled 
for thee ; and learn of Him to be patient and 
resigned. Hast thou friends who love thee, and 
would do thee good? Come learn, more and 
more, to requite them by kind offices. Hast thou 
enemies who would injure thee ? Come, and from 
the contemplation of his example, who on his cross 
prayed for his murderers, learn to forgive and bless 
them. Art thou happy? Come and testify thy 
gratitude. Art thou unhappy? Come, weary and 
heavy-laden, to Him, who will give thee rest. 



236 



SERMON XXXV. 



THE FOUNDATION OF EVERY ACCEPTABLE RELIGIOUS 
SERVICE. 

1 Cor. V. 8. — LET US KEEP THE FEAST, NOT WITH THE LEAVEN OF 
MALICE AND WICKEDNESS, BUT WITH THE UNLEAVENED BREAD OF 
SINCERITY AND TRUTH. 

We have in these words, addressed by a Chris- 
tian apostle to his Christian converts, the foundation 
of every acceptable religious service. It does not 
consist in much or little speculative knowledge of 
the doctrines of the gospel; in the manifestation 
of much or little zeal in the dissemination of 
Christian truth ; in the greater or smaller number 
of our religious exercises. It does not consist in 
belonging to any one of the numerous parties into 
which the kingdom of Christ is divided. It is 
found in all these parties, and is wanting in all. It 
is sincerity. 

When we lift our voice in prayer to God, it is 
sincerity, and this alone, which gives it efficacy. 
It is not to the language that God has respect. It 
is not to the length. It is not to the earnestness and 



RELIGIOUS SERVICE. 



237 



fervor. We may cull the choicest expressions ; we 
may dress up our thoughts in the most beautiful 
language ; we may utter a multitude of words ; we 
may have a zeal which, like that of the Psalmist, 
may seem to 4 consume us,' and all be of no 
avail. 

On the contrary, we may use the most homely 
phrases ; we may utter a single sentence ; we may 
breathe a sigh ; and a prayer will go up to Heaven, 
and return in blessings upon us. 

The prayer, which is of no avail, is the prayer of 
thoughtlessness, or of hypocrisy. The sacrifice is 
indeed laid upon the altar ; it may be richly adorned, 
but there is no fire to consume it. The prayer 
which is heard and answered, is the prayer of sin- 
cerity. It is the prayer which is offered under a 
deep sense of the greatness and majesty of God, 
and is therefore a reverent and humble prayer. It 
is the prayer which is offered with a deep convic- 
tion of the wisdom of God, and is therefore a sub- 
missive prayer. It is the prayer which is offered 
with a lively sense of the goodness of God, and is 
therefore a grateful prayer. It is, finally, the prayer 
which is offered in the recollection of the infinite 
purity and holiness of God, and His utter abhor- 
rence of sin, and is therefore a contrite prayer. 
With no other dispositions than these should we 
pray, and, praying with these dispositions, we shall 
not fail to be heard. 

I do not mean that when we pray for temporal 
blessings, we shall always receive what we ask. 



238 



THE FOUNDATION OF EVERY 



God is wiser than we are, and may know that what 
we ask is not what is best for us. But I mean that 
our prayers will never be unavailing, for they will 
bring us to a nearer acquaintance with God, 
secure to us a larger portion of his grace and favor, 
and if our request is denied, we shall be prepared 
to submit and adore. 

In every religious service in which we are en- 
gaged, sincerity is equally important. We may 
come up to worship God, in the church, twice or 
thrice on the Sabbath, yes, every day in the week ; 
our demeanor may be grave and serious, but with- 
out sincerity it will avail us nothing with God. 1 If 
we regard iniquity in our heart, God will not hear 
us.' The service which is acceptable, is that of the 
heart. ' God is a Spirit, and they who worship Him 
must worship Him in spirit and in truth.' 

I mention one other service, and it is that to 
which our text may appear to have special refer- 
ence, the service which is commemorative of our 
Saviour's death. In this, as in every other, it is 
sincerity alone which constitutes its value in the 
sight of God. It is not our assent, — with the 
fullest persuasion of its truth, — to the longest creed 
that has ever been written. It is not our detail, 
with whatever minuteness, of our religious experi- 
ences ; it is not our solemnity ; it is not our tears ; 
which make us worthy communicants. It is our 
coming from a conviction that it is our duty to 
come, in obedience to the will of Christ, and in 
commemoration of Him. It is our coming with 



ACCEPTABLE RELIGIOUS SERVICE. 



239 



sorrow for .our past sins, and with resolutions of 
amendment. It is our coming with gratitude for 
our spiritual blessings, and with a resolution, by the 
grace of God, to improve them. In this, — I re- 
peat, — as in every other service, it is sincerity alone 
which constitutes its value in the sight of God. 
Without the dispositions I have mentioned, we 
should not come. With these dispositions we may 
come, and shall come with acceptance. There is 
nothing to repel the approach of any one who has 
a sincere desire to honor and obey the Saviour. 
For such there is a place provided, and we will bid 
them welcome. 

Are they sensible of unworthiness ? So are we. Are 
they surrounded by temptations in the world ? So are 
we. And therefore we have come ; and therefore we 
bid them come also. Sensible that we are sinners, we 
come to Christ, the Saviour of sinners. Sensible 
of the temptations of the world, we come to the in- 
stitution God has appointed, that we may acquire 
additional strength to meet and overcome these 
temptations. It is one of the means which God 
has appointed to make us better, and we thankfully 
use it. We are sure it will do us no harm. It is 
our hope and our prayer that it may do us good. 

In this hope, in regard to our fellow Christians, 
who desire to be better, and are laboring by the 
grace of God, to become so, we invite them to join 
with us in this memorial of our common Lord. We 
desire only sincerity; a sincere purpose of holy 
obedience. Of this sincerity, we are not constitu- 



• 240 THE FOUNDATION OF EVERY 

ted the judges. There may be a pompous profes- 
sion which is hollow and insincere ; and on the 
other hand, there may be a silent, unostentatious 
performance of duty, which has the sanction of 
conscience, and the approbation of God. 

They take upon themselves a fearful responsibil- 
ity who, by creeds and confessions, by forms and 
ceremonies, by any mode of human device, prevent 
a single sincere conscientious Christian from com- 
plying with the dying injunction of his Lord and 
Master. "What ! Shall the command to do this be 
given by the Saviour, and reiterated by his apostles, 
and shall a Christian minister, or a Christian 
church, assume and exercise the right of prevent- 
ing a humble believer from obeying this com- 
mand ? On whom, in this case, will the blame 
of disobedience rest? Not on him, surely, who 
comes, with every appearance of sincerity, and 
asks for admission, and is forbidden. No ! But 
on those who forbid. 

I have said that sincerity is required ; and sin- 
cerity implies an earnest endeavor to be, and to do, 
all that our religion demands of us. If we have not 
yet attained to the full position of this desire, it is 
not a reason for our keeping back from the Lord's 
Supper. It is a reason for our coming, that we 
may avail ourselves of the influence which this or- 
dinance is adapted to exert on our character and 
conduct. 

When our Saviour first gave it to his disciples, 
he knew that they were far from having attained. 



ACCEPTABLE RELIGIOUS SERVICE. 241 

He knew that they would all desert him when he 
stood most in need of their sympathy, and that one 
of them would disown him ; but he gave them 
these memorials in token of his affection, as the 
future means of reminding them of their ingratitude, 
and of prompting them to watchfulness and prayer. 
St. Paul, too, reprehends the conduct of his Co- 
rinthian converts whilst partaking, in an irreverent, 
unworthy manner, of the Lord's Supper, for they 
made it a drunken and riotous feast ; but he does 
not forbid their participation of it. He would have 
them partake with seriousness, and self-exami- 
nation. ' Let a man examine himself, and so let 
him eat of that bread and drink of that cup.' 

Let us examine ourselves, Christian communi- 
cants. ' Let us keep the feast, not with the leaven 
of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened 
bread of sincerity and truth. 1 Amen ! 



VOL. II. 



21 



242 



SERMON XXXVI. 



THANKSGIVING. 
Psalms 1. 14. — offer unto god thanksgiving. 

The various duties of religion are not equally easy 
to be fulfilled. They require more or less exertion ; 
higher or lower degress of fortitude and resolution, 
greater or smaller sacrifices, according to the differ- 
ent circumstances in which we are placed. 

Sometimes there is a favorite passion to be sub- 
dued, which often appears to ' gain fresh strength 
from fresh opposition,' and therefore requires un- 
wearied attention, and new and painful efforts. 

Sometimes there is an injury to be forgiven which 
has mortified our pride, and wounded our sense of 
honor; an enemy to be loved and regarded as a 
brother, although the heart may, at first, " revolt 
against him, and we are prompted to turn away 
from him in horror. 

Sometimes the dearest wordly interests, — pro- 
perty, liberty, life, — are to be immolated on the 
altar of religion. 

It is no such trial of fortitude, and forbearance, 
and self-command, it is no such relinquishment of 
our worldly interests, that is now required at our 
hands ; although when religion calls, even for such 



THANKSGIVING. 



243 



exertions, and such sacrifices, we must be ready to 
make them, and, however painful the effort, it will 
be abundantly compensated by the reward. 

We come here to-day, my hearers, to perform a 
duty at once natural and delightful ; to offer, on the 
altar of gratitude, the oblation of grateful hearts. 

Yes, for it is not the voice of authority, merely, 
that bids us open our churches, and enter to pay our 
vows at the shrine of gratitude. It is the voice 
that speaks within us, and tells us what we are ; 
and what we have ; and what we hope ; and bids 
us acknowledge, with humble, fervent adoration, 
that all is of God. 

Childhood, as it sports in happy thoughtlessness, 
has been taught to think of God who makes it hap- 
py. Youth, as it treads the path of knowledge and 
listens to the voice of instruction, is taught to think 
of God who gives it the power to be wise. Man- 
hood, as, with thoughtful, anxious brow, it toils in 
its vocation, remembers God, who crowns its labors 
with his blessing. Old age, as it bends its feeble 
steps to the grave, remembers God who has * car- 
ried it even to gray hairs,' and has not failed it 
when its strength has failed. 

And childhood, and youth, and manhood, and old 
age come up together to pour their votive offering 
on religion's altar. 

I would fain believe that it is the impulse of the 
heart which brings them hither, and bids them trace 
the hallowed footsteps of their fathers to the house 
of God. 



244 



THANKSGIVING. 



They are here, expecting r perhaps, to have their 
emotions portrayed in language, and brought home 
again to their bosoms with renewed and quickened 
energy. 

But how shall this expectation be answered ? The 
full heart cannot utter its own feelings, and how can 
it describe the feelings of others ? 

It can ' muse in silence, and the fire will burn,' 
but cannot speak of all that God has done for itself 
and for those whom it would impress with a deeper 
sense of obligation. 

Language is too imperfect and feeble, - — the lan- 
guage of angels is too imperfect and feeble, — to tell 
the number or value of the benefits of God. 

It is a love unspeakable, inconceivable, that has 
been manifested in our creation ; in the preservation 
of life and in its innumerable blessings ; and, above 
all, — far above all, — in the redemption that has 
been wrought out for us through the mediation of 
Jesus Christ. 

Nature, with her unnumbered tongues, proclaims 
through all her works, the goodness of her Author ; 
but religion speaks it in tones of yet deeper inter- 
est. ' He spared not His own Son, but gave him 
up to the death for us all. And He that spared not 
his own Son, shall he not with Him also freely give 
us all things ? ' 

Look within you, intelligent, immortal beings, and 
by the light which God has kindled in your breasts, 
read your obligations. 

Look around you, objects of the Divine care and 



THANKSGIVING. 



245 



kindness, and in the rich provision that is made for 
your happiness, read your obligations. 

Look above you, Christians, candidates for the 
heavenly glory, and in the hopes which religion in- 
spires, in the prospects which religion unfolds, read 
your obligations. 

In your deliverance from danger and calamity; 
in your restoration from sickness and distress ; in 
the consolation which has been imparted to you in 
the hour of sorrow ; in the brightness of that favor 
which has dispelled the gloom that surrounded you ; 
in the prosperity of your handiwork, and the blessing 
which has been vouchsafed upon your honest in- 
dustry; in your family enjoyments, and the heart- 
felt comfort arising from the closer and more endear- 
ing connections of life ; in the assistance you have 
received from others, and in the benefits by which 
you have been enabled to repay them ; read your 
obligations. 

You may feel them in every sensation. You 
may hear them in every breath. Every sensation 
should be a grateful one, and every breath should 
be praise to God. 

Look abroad upon the earth, my hearers, and 
contrast your condition with the condition of those 
who are enveloped in the darkness of heathenism ; 
or covered with the sable mantle of superstition ; or 
groaning under the yoke of tyranny ; or subjected 
to hard and burdensome exactions which deprive 
them of a large portion of the hard-earned fruits of 
their labor. 

21* 



246 



THANKSGIVING 



Then look back upon your own condition, enjoy- 
ing the benign light of Christianity ; possessed of a 
free constitution ; and scarcely sensible of the bur- 
then of sustaining the government which protects 
you, and the administration of the laws which 
secure to you the possession of your rights and 
privileges. 

Again look round upon the earth ; and compare 
your condition with the condition of those who are 
enduring the miseries of war; the bare recital of 
which is enough to freeze the blood, and harrow up 
the soul. 

Behold a Christian nation, associated with our 
earliest and most interesting recollections ; among 
whom the first of uninspired poets sang, the 
most eloquent of orators declaimed ; and the chief 
of the apostles taught the knowledge of the only 
true God, struggling to break the yoke of bondage, 
and resume their rank among the nations of the 
earth, but struggling as yet in vain. Their country 
laid waste ; its inhabitants butchered, or worse than 
butchered, — the victims of lust and avarice. 

"Who can read without shuddering, the fate of 
Scio and Cyprus ? Who, without indignation, can 
hear this Christian people lifting up their supplicat- 
ing voice for help, and not one Christian arm ex- 
tended for their defence and rescue ? 

From this scene of horror turn your view to your- 
selves ; and how great is the contrast ! 

Instead of the sound of the trumpet and the 
alarm of war ; scenes of blood and carnage ; villages 



THANKSGIVING 



247 



in flames, and fruitful fields converted into a barren, 
frightful waste ; you hear the sounds of busy indus- 
try; witness the peaceful scenes of domestic com- 
fort ; behold hamlets increasing into villages ; villages 
rising into cities; and the hand of cultivation chang- 
ing the barren waste into a fruitful field. 

Confine your attention to your own country, and 
contrast your condition with that of those on whom 
are entailed the evils of slavery; a miserable inherit- 
ance to the enslaver, and a monstrous injustice and 
cruelty to the enslaved ; an institution which disre- 
gards the tenderest charities of life ; sets at nought the 
most sacred relationships, — if, indeed, they be per- 
mitted to exist at all ; and, deaf to the cries of nature 
pleading for forbearance and compassion, ruthlessly 
tears asunder husband and wife, parent and child, 
to be bought and sold, and driven about like the 
beasts of the field. 

I have visited the land of slavery, and I deem it 
appropriate in this connection, and on this day of 
thanksgiving, to repeat a part of what I said to you 
on my return from that visit. 

" I have travelled through a country which exhib- 
its much that is sublime and beautiful ; with a cli- 
mate milder than ours ; a rich, luxuriant soil ; and 
inhabited by a people intelligent and hospitable ; 
but I have returned contented, far more than con- 
tented, to our blessed New England, — though cold 
its climate and hard its soil, — whose fields are 
sown and tilled, and reaped by the hands of free- 
men. 



248 



THANKSGIVING. 



" I have witnessed many of the evils and miseries, 
though by no means all the horrors of slavery ; its 
deleterious effect on the intellectual and moral pow- 
ers ; its debasing, palsying influence on the energies 
of the body and the mind. 

" I have witnessed the consequent imperfect, mis- 
erable cultivation of the soil, and the destitution of 
those comforts which are enjoyed by our hardy and 
industrious yeomanry. 

" I have witnessed, too, what is certainly a con- 
comitant, if it be not a result, of the unwise and 
unrighteous institution to which I have referred. I 
mean the evils of the want of a proper system of 
education ; of the establishment of parochial schools, 
and the means of early instruction which we pos- 
sess. 

" Above all, I have seen and felt the want of the 
means of religious instruction ; of the public insti- 
tutions of religion ; — or rather the scanty measure 
in which they are enjoyed through the extensive 
country T have visited. 

" How much did I miss, in my journeying, the 
' heaven directed spire,' which adds so much to the 
interest and beauty of New England scenery ; and 
denotes the observance of rites which are essential 
to the real welfare of any people. 

" If there is a sceptic among you as to the 
important uses and value of public worship, I 
should want no better means for his conviction 
than to place him where they are not enjoyed. 

I have mentioned these things, my hearers, not 



THANKSGIVING. 



249 



surely to institute an invidious comparison, but to 
excite emotions of gratitude to Him 'who has 
made us ' thus ' to differ ' from our less favored 
brethren. They are evils which the wise and good 
among them much deplore. Let us not forget that 
to whomsoever much is given, from them will much 
be required." 

Once more. Look at the condition of those, 
whether at home, or abroad, who are subject to the 
visitations of ' the pestilence that walketh in dark- 
ness, and the destruction that wasteth at noonday ; ' 
and then turn to your own condition, breathing a 
pure and wholesome atmosphere, and exempt, in a 
great measure, from the influence of those malig- 
nant diseases to which they are subjected. 

Author of our Being ! Giver of all our blessings ! 
Accept our grateful thanks. Fill us with a livelier 
sense of thy mercies, and help us, more and more, 
to live to thy glory. 

Thus, my hearers, in the recognition of past and 
present mercies ; in the anticipation of higher good ; 
and in the exercise of grateful emotions, should we 
spend this day. 

Blessed day! for all the recollections it has 
awakened, and all the devotion it has kindled, and 
all the happiness it has brought with it, and will 
still awaken and kindle and bring with it, till it 
ceases to be numbered with the days of the year. 

Blessed day ! It brings with it too many person- 
al recollections, too many associations intimately 
blended with our tenderest feelings, — entwined 



250 



THANKSGIVING. 



about the closest fibres of the heart ; not to be re- 
garded with deep interest, whether it come in joy, 
or whether it come in sadness. With it may come 
the living, on whom affection reposes, and with it 
must come the departed, on whom memory dwells. 

It is the day, of all the days in the year, which 
brings together the past and the present ; the days 
that now are, and the days that have long gone by ; 
the friends with whom we still hold converse, and 
the friends with whom our spirits only can mingle. 

Blessed day ! Our fathers honored it, and we 
will honor it. Our fathers rejoiced in it, and we 
will rejoice in it. Our fathers hallowed it, and we 
will consecrate it to the purposes of thanksgiving. 
Children and youth ! even now, though with me 
the frolicsome days of childhood and the ardent, 
glowing season of youth are past, I sympathize 
with you in your happiness on the return of this 
day. 

Be thankful if you are permitted to enjoy it with 
your parents and those who are most dear to you ; 
and when you are older, — if God should spare you 
to be older, — and those parents are no longer with 
you, be thankful for the sources of happiness you 
may then possess, as well as for those which, if you 
have been virtuous, memory will bring to you. 

Be careful so to spend your early and mature life 
that you may look back upon those days, and call 
up those friends to remembrance, without the pangs 
of self-reproach. 

And may we all thus be thankful. By the piety 



THANKSGIVING. 



251 



of our lives, may we all testify our gratitude to 
Him who has given us life, and crowned it with His 
mercy. 

Offer unto God thanksgiving. 

Nor should this be all. Piety should bring its offer- 
ing of charity, and diffuse the happiness for which it 
renders praise. Grateful itself for the blessings of 
an indulgent Providence, it should give to others, as 
far as may be, the same motives of thankfulness 
which itself possesses. If it is truly grateful, it will 
not fail to do so. 

' The poor,' said that compassionate Saviour 
whose office and delight it was to do good, — to 
lighten the burthens, and soothe the sorrows of the 
heavy laden, — ' the poor ye have always with you ; ' 
and in saying this, he spoke volumes to the heart 
of sensibility, or rather to the heart that feels its 
obligations and responsibility as a Christian. 

Go, then, my people, seek for the abodes of 
misery ; bind up the broken-hearted ; smooth the 
pillow of sickness, and bear up the departing spirit 
on the wings of your prayers. 

Go, ' eat the bread, and drink the sweet, and send 
a portion to them who have nothing.' 

But, ere you go, leave here your gift before the 
altar, and then go and perform these works of mercy. 

Let that gift be as large and generous as your 
circumstances will permit. It will not be misap- 
plied. I pledge myself that it will not be misap- 
plied. 

It will open a stream which will flow in upon the 



252 



THANKSGIVING. 



dry and barren soil of indigence, and refresh and 
make it fruitful. It will shed a gleam of comfort 
upon hearts which have few such gleams to cheer 
them. And it will come back to you in the sweet 
consciousness of well-doing. It will come back to 
you in the remembrance of the happiness you have 
conferred. It will come back to you in the appro- 
bation of Him who, having heard the sigh of the 
miserable, has witnessed the bounty which con- 
verted it into an ascription of thanksgiving. 



253 



SERMON XXXVII. 



ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 
Matthew vi. 25, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31. —therefore i say unto you, 

TAKE NO THOUGHT FOR YOUR LIFE, WHAT YE SHALL EAT, OR WHAT 
YE SHALL DRINK J NOR YET FOR YOUR BODY, WHAT YE SHALL PUT 
ON. IS NOT THE LIFE MORE THAN MEAT, AND THE BODY THAN 
RAIMENT ? 

BEHOLD THE FOWLS OF THE AIR : FOR THEY SOW NOT, NEITHER DO 
THEY REAP, NOR GATHER INTO BARNS } YET YOUR HEAVENLY 
FATHER FEEDETH THEM. ARE YE NOT MUCH BETTER THAN THEY ? 

AND WHY TAKE YE THOUGHT FOR RAIMENT? CONSIDER THE LILIES 
OF THE FIELD, HOW THEY GROW ; THEY TOIL NOT, NEITHER DO 
THEY SPIN. 

AND YET I SAY UNTO YOU, THAT EVEN SOLOMON IN ALL HIS GLORY WAS 
NOT ARRAYED LIKE ONE OF THESE. 

WHEREEORE IF GOD SO CLOTHE THE GRASS OF THE FIELD, WHICH TO- 
DAY IS, AND TO-MORROW IS CAST INTO THE OVEN, SHALL HE NOT 
MUCH MORE CLOTHE YOU, O YE OF LITTLE FAITH ? 

THEREFORE TAKE NO THOUGHT, SAYING WHAT SHALL WE EAT ? OR, 
WHAT SHALL WE DRINK ? OR, WH EREWITHAL SHALL WE BE CLOTHED ? 

There are a few passages in the New Testament 
which appear to inculcate an entire dependence 
upon Providence, — without any exertion of our 
own, — for the supply of our temporal wants. The 
injunction is without any qualification : £ Take no 
thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye 

vol. ii. 22 



254 ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 

shall drink ; nor yet for your body, what ye shall 
put on.' 

These passages have often been misunderstood 
and perverted. They have sometimes furnished 
indolence an excuse for neglecting to make provis- 
ion for the future ; or misguided zeal with a reason 
for the same improvidence. 

Happily for them, others have not felt themselves 
bound to so literal a compliance with the precept ; 
or they would soon have felt the truth of the 
apostle's warning, c He that will not work, nei- 
ther SHALL HE EAT.' 

To many serious minds, these injunctions have 
occasioned uneasiness and perplexity. The requi- 
sition was positive, yet impracticable. How far 
must it be followed, and how far could obedience 
with safety be dispensed with ? To sceptical minds 
they have furnished food for ridicule ; or, at least, 
weapons for assailing the truth of revelation. 

Let not the idle and indolent imagine that they 
have any foundation in these passages whereon to 
build their hopes of exemption from labor. 

Let not the serious be apprehensive whilst they 
are seeking for a competence, or even wealth, in the 
path of virtuous industry, that they are acting in 
opposition to the precepts of their Saviour, and the 
will of their God. 

Let not the sceptical suppose that they have 
found in these instructions weapons for assailing, 
or instruments for undermining the truth of our 
religion. No. The explanation of these passages 



ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 255 

is easy and satisfactory. They may be understood 
literally, without any impeachment of the wisdom 
of their Author or His divine authority. 

The fact is, that with their original interpretation 
we have no concern. They were not addressed to 
us, but to the immediate disciples of our Lord ; a 
part of whom, at least, had already been selected 
to preach his gospel, and their circumstances were 
very different from ours. 6 And seeing the multi- 
tude, he went up into a mountain ; and when 
he was set, his disciples came unto him, and he 
taught them. 1 

They were going forth to propagate a new relig- 
ion. It was important that they should give their 
entire, undivided attention to the work. At first, 
they were not to be stationary, but were to go about 
from place to place to sow the seeds of divine truth ; 
in the faith that, if ' some seed fell by the way- 
side,' and ' some in stony places,' and ' some among 
thorns, yet some would assuredly 6 fall into the good 
soil of an honest heart, and germinate, and bring 
forth fruit.' 

They were to give themselves wholly to the work. 
They would, therefore, have no opportunity to labor 
for their subsistence ; and they could not be careful 
about the means of subsistence, without a desertion, 
so far, of their sacred employment. 

They had ' cast away their fishing nets,' and were 
going forth to be * fishers of men.' They had re- 
linquished the prospect of worldly wealth, — if they 
ever enjoyed it, — and were to look for a reversion 
in heaven. 



256 ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 

He who sent them out on an errand of love and 
mercy, would make provision for the supply of their 
wants. 

As He required them to be sequestered entirely 
from the busy concerns of the world ; they were en- 
couraged to cast themselves upon the protection and 
support of His Providence. 

He heard the ravens cry, and cared for the fowls 
of the air ; and would ' He not much more care for 
them,' intelligent, immortal beings, engaged in His 
service ? 

The plants of the earth, the lilies of the field were 
warmed into life by His sun, and were nourished 
by the dews and the rain from heaven, and how 
much were they better than these ! 

Yes, He who commissioned them, would provide 
for them. The workman was worthy of his meat ; 
and care would be taken that that meat should be 
given him. 

In this confidence, they went forth without hesi- 
tation. And well they might ; for the same voice 
which warned them that they were to ' go as sheep 
among wolves,' addressed them in the soothing 
language of encouragement. i Fear not, little flock, 
it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the 
kingdom.' 

It is thus that we are to understand the passages 
to which I have referred, and with which our text 
is connected. The common explanation that our 
Saviour did not mean that they should be inter- 
preted literally, is not satisfactory. The language 



ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 257 

is as explicit as language can be ; and the circum- 
stances vindicate its propriety. 

It is true, that in some of the passages the origi- 
nal will perhaps admit of a different translation. 
4 Take no thought for the morrow,' for example, 
might perhaps have been rendered ' take no anxious, 
distressing thought ; ' for the words may be under- 
stood as implying restless solicitude ; and 6 to-mor- 
row' may be interpreted according to the Eastern 
phrase, as meaning all the time to come, however 
distant. 

There is often a force in the original which can- 
not be given in our language without using terms 
which convey a still stronger meaning. 

When our Saviour would express the far greater 
strength of the affection which must be felt for him 
than even for a parent, he uses a phrase, which, in 
the translation, conveys a very different meaning 
from that which he intended to convey. ' Except 
a man hate his father and mother, he cannot be my 
disciple.' 

In the passage we are now considering, it is 
evident that our Saviour intended his disciples to 
understand that they were to cast themselves and 
their cares on God. They were to ' take no money 
in their purse, neither two coats, neither shoes nor 
yet staves.' 

In the spirit of the injunction we are doubtless 
to find a lesson of moral instruction for ourselves. 

To us they must be understood as forbidding the 
care about the future which is attended with dis- 
22* 



258 ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 

trust, uneasiness and despondence. Such a care as 
engrosses, dejects, and distracts the mind. It forbids 
also a vain and useless curiosity about the issues of 
things which are in the hands of God. It forbids 
that provision for the present world which would 
make us forget that we were designed for another. 

The religion of the Bible is a liberal, enlightened 
system. It recommends a stated abstraction from 
the business of life ; the consecration of the seventh 
part of our time, as much as possible, to the special 
duties of religion. It recommends retirement from 
the world, for the purpose of self-examination, and 
the exercise of those pious affections which are due 
to our God ; but it does not require that the exer- 
cises of piety, usually so called, shall constitute our 
whole, or even chief employment. 

It addresses itself to men as engaged in the busi- 
ness of active life ; sanctions their honest employ- 
ments by its inculcations to industry, whilst, at the 
same time, it admonishes them to carry into every 
employment the fear of God. 

The interpretation I have given of this discourse 
of our Saviour is strengthened, indeed I may 
say confirmed, by the passage in St. Luke, where 
a part of these admonitions to his disciples is 
repeated. 

Our Saviour illustrates and enforces his admoni- 
tions to his disciples, by pointing their attention to 
the fowls of heaven, and the flowers of the field. 
' Behold the fowls of the air ; for they sow not, 
neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; yet your 



ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 259 

Heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much 
better than they ? 

1 And why take ye thought for raiment ? Con- 
sider the lilies of the field, how they grow ; they toil 
not, neither do they spin. And yet I say unto you, 
that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like 
one of these. Wherefore if God so clothe the grass 
of the field, which to-day is and to-morrow is cast 
into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, 
O ye of little faith ? Therefore take no thought, 
saying what shall we eat? or what shall we drink? 
or wherewithal shall we be clothed ? ' 

In the same school of nature, we may read lec- 
tures of heavenly wisdom, and gain improvement 
in the virtues of the Christian life. We may learn 
dependence on Providence and gratitude. We may 
learn from these humble instructors what many of 
the philosophers could not teach us, that we are 
not only the constant, but peculiar care of God; 
and that if a sparrow does not fall to the ground 
without Him, much more are not we unnoticed and 
unprotected by His Providence. 

We may learn, too, from the fragile and perish- 
ing plant, how precarious is our existence ; how 
momentary our duration on earth. 

Nor is this all. We may learn that life will rise 
out of death and corruption ; that we shall spring 
from the grave like the seed which is buried in the 
ground ; and be invested with a brighter and more 
glorious raiment than the lilies of the field in all 
their beauty. 



'260 ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 

Such knowledge as this is open to all. It grows 
in every field, and meets us in all our paths. 
At this beautiful season, when, from the frequent 
showers which have visited and refreshed the earth, 
nature retains, even in summer, the verdure and 
freshness of spring ; we can find it on every page 
of the book of nature which is spread out before 
us. 

God is visible in all his works. In silent majesty, 
or beauty, or utility, they praise Him. 

It is by man that their songs of praise should have 
intelligent utterance. 

' Great and marvellous are Thy works, Lord 
God Almighty ; in wisdom Thou hast made them 
all. The earth is full of Thy riches.' 



261 



SERMON XXXVIII. 



TEMPERANCE. 
1 Corinthians, ix. 25. — temperate in all things. 

There is a crusade against intemperance, in its 
common acceptation, and there should be. It is a 
holy war. I am habitually for peace, but this is a 
warfare in which I can conscientiously and earnestly 
beseech you to engage. 

The vice of intemperance, in this sense, cannot 
be portrayed in colors too dark and appalling. It 
is brutish, loathsome ; the parent of sloth, and neg- 
ligence, and want; of ill-humor, contention and 
murder ; infamy, disease and death ; destructive 
alike to the powers of body and soul ; to present 
peace and future happiness. 

It is the most dangerous of all vices, for it puts 
its miserable victim into the power of every other 
vice. It is not, therefore, a single vice, but like the 
evil spirit of whom we have a record in the gospels, 
* its name is legion.' 

It inflames the blood ; disturbs the head ; per- 



262 



TEMPERANCE. 



verts the heart; and when the blood is inflamed, 
the head disturbed, and the heart perverted, what is 
there to prevent its miserable slave from becoming 
a prey to every temptation, and every folly in life? 

i Who hath woe ? "Who hath sorrow ? Who 
hath contention? Who hath babblings? Who 
hath wounds without cause? They that tarry 
long at the wine ; they that seek mixed wine. At 
the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an 
adder.' 

The strong man of the house being bound, the 
passions arise like robbers, and rifle his goods. 
Reason, the monarch of the soul, being, for a time, 
dethroned, the subjects spend themselves in the 
work of anarchy, and many a step has been taken, 
and many a deed done, the consequences of which 
have haunted the perpetrator through all his suc- 
ceeding existence, making his days wearisome and 
his nights a burden. 

We cannot be too much on our guard, then, to 
prevent the access of this calamity to ourselves, nor 
be too anxious to do all that we can reasonably and 
lawfully do, to avert, or remove it from others. 

If there is any one in this assembly who is tam- 
pering with this enemy to his peace and welfare, 
let me earnestly entreat him to give it no place ; no, 
not for a moment ; to avoid every thing, to break 
off from every thing that may tend to make him 
the slave, the victim, of this degrading, loathsome, 
destructive vice! 

What need have any of us of intoxicating drinks? 



TEMPERANCE. 



263 



Why allow them a place in our house, except in 
the medicine chest? 

If there be a parent here whose conscience tes- 
tifies that he is chargeable with this intemperance, 
or with any fondness for intoxicating drink, I would 
say to him, ' Think of the evil that you are working 
in your sphere. You are bound to set a good ex- 
ample before your children, and how can this be 
done while you continue what you are ? Remem- 
ber that you do not stand alone in life, but that 
from you descends an influence upon your children. 
Yes, it may be upon your children's children, through 
many generations.' 

But, in our zeal against this wide-spreading and 
destructive evil, there is danger that other kinds of 
intemperance will be overlooked. The apostle tells 
us that we must be 1 temperate in all things.' 

It concerns every one, therefore, whilst he is cast- 
ing a stone at his poor, degraded fellow-creature 
who needs his pity, his labors, his prayers, to look 
to himself, and see if there is ' no beam in his own 
eye.' Intemperance is not confined to the excessive 
use of ardent spirits. There are those, I remark 
first, — and they are more numerous than is com- 
monly imagined, — who are intemperate in the use 
of food, and who thus pervert what was designed 
for the preservation and support of life, into the 
instrument of its injury and destruction. 

There is pain and uneasiness in the sensation of 
hunger; there is pleasure in its gratification. It 
has been so appointed by our wise and merciful 



264 



TEMPERANCE. 



Creator, for the purpose of impelling us to seek the 
food which is essential to our subsistence. But 
many seem to imagine that this pleasure is the end 
of eating, and not the means to an end. The de- 
mands of nature are easily satisfied, and when 
these alone are considered, there is seldom danger 
of excess. But when we eat merely for pleasure, 
we go beyond the demands of nature, and are in 
danger of being led into all the evils of intempe- 
rance. 

Gluttony is a most degrading, as well as per- 
nicious vice. Its ill effects are hardly less to the 
individual than those of the intemperance before 
noticed. By deranging the physical system, it im- 
pairs the mental faculties, and, of course, the ability 
to fulfil, in a proper manner, the duties of life. Let 
us guard, then, against all approaches to this vice. 
It deserves our serious consideration that there are 
few who, in this particular, keep within the strict 
bounds of temperance, and who do not, there- 
fore, in some measure, unfit themselves for the 
performance of their appropriate duties. The 
lightness of spirit, the cheerfulness of heart, the 
serenity of temper, the alacrity of mind, the vigor 
of the understanding, the obedience of the will, 
the freedom from bad desires, and the propen- 
sity to good ones, which are the fruit of a prudent, 
judicious self-denial in the particular I have men- 
tioned, are inconceivable by those who have not 
experienced them. 

Nor is it only those who are intemperate in eat- 



TEMPERANCE. 



265 



ing and drinking, that are obnoxious to the charge 
of intemperance. The abuse of any of the pas- 
sions is intemperance in a degree proportioned to 
the nature and measure of that abuse. 

He who habitually indulges in excessive anger is 
intemperate. Licentiousness is intemperance, and 
intemperance of the lowest and most degrading 
kind. The miser and the spendthrift are intem- 
perate ; but liberality is temperance, for it is equally 
removed from covetousness on the one hand, and 
prodigality on the other. 

And what shall we say of the violent partisan in 
politics and theology ? — I do not say religion^ for 
in religion there can be nothing but kindness, for- 
bearance, and love. 

Politics and theology ! How much intemperance 
is here ! What severity, and harshness, and bitter 
denunciation ! How are men carried away by their 
prejudices ! How do they lose their reason, and 
judgment, and temper, and often when, in principle, 
there is no difference at all. 

There is a tendency in our nature to extremes. 
Good men, when engaged in the promotion of a 
worthy end, remember, — it may be, — the injunc- 
tion of the apostle that it is good to be zealously 
affected in a good thing ; but too often forget that 
the same apostle has told us 1 there is a zeal that is 
not according to knowledge.' 

Even the wise and judicious suffer themselves to 
be betrayed by the weak minded and enthusiastic, 
into measures which, in the exercise of their cool, 

vol. ii. 23 



266 



TEMPERANCE. 



deliberate judgment, they would not approve. No- 
thing eminently great or good, I am aware, can be 
effected without zeal and enthusiasm, but these are 
perfectly consistent with wisdom and discretion, 
and should never exist without them. I shall not 
be misunderstood, I trust, when I say that I have 
witnessed, with much pain, the exhibition of intem- 
perance in the cause of temperance ; and I have 
much regretted that this noble cause should be so 
deeply ' wounded in the house of its friends.' The 
use of hard words is not so efficacious as sound 
argument. 

Let not any of those who are engaged in the traf- 
fic of ardent spirits, — and not a few honorable and 
excellent men, as I well know, are so, — be prevented 
by harsh denunciation, from taking a serious, calm 
and deliberate view of this matter; whether the 
dreadful effects of the evil use of ardent spirits does 
not make it a duty which they owe to God and 
man, to strike off from their business this poisonous 
branch of it. 

For myself, I would say that I know not what 
would tempt me, — not the wealth of the Indies, — 
no, not the treasures which the world contains, — 
would tempt me to have on my soul the burden, 
even of an apprehension, that 1 had been instru- 
mental in the corruption, degradation, ruin, of one 
single fellow-being. Still less, that, — as in the 
ramifications of society, it might be, — I had been 
instrumental in the corruption and ruin of thousands 
of my fellow-beings for time and eternity. 



TEMPERANCE. 



267 



How could I contemplate the family, once united, 
comfortable and happy, now, through my agency, 
disunited, poor and miserable ? 

How could I look upon that wife and those chil- 
dren, whose husband and father I had transformed 
from a protector, supporter, kind and tender friend, 
into, — I will not say a brute, — I would not so 
much dishonor the inferior creation who obey the 
impulses of natural affection, — but, into a monster, 
without natural affection, regardless of the closest 
ties, dead to the tender charities of life ; a slave 
himself, and yet the cruel tyrant and oppressor of 
those whom he once had loved and cherished, and 
whom, by the most sacred obligations, he is bound 
to love and cherish always. How could I lift up 
my face before my God and Judge, whose image, in 
the soul of my brother, I had cruelly defaced or 
destroyed ? The thought of it would haunt me by 
day and by night. On every breeze would come to 
me the lamentations, — if not the maledictions, — 
of the broken-hearted and miserable. 

No! the gain of the whole world could be no 
compensation for the thought that I had destroyed 
a single soul. 1 He that converteth a sinner from 
the error of his way, shall save a soul from death 
and hide a multitude of sins.' But not so, he who 
encourageth the sinner in the error of his way, or 
tempts him to sin. To him, the language of Scrip- 
ture is, 6 Woe unto him that giveth his neighbor 
drink, and maketh him drunken ! ' 

4 They that turn many to righteousness, shall 



268 



TEMPERANCE. 



shine as the brightness of the firmament and as 
the stars forever and ever.' 

Be temperate in all things. My text is itself a 
sermon. It has been preached to you here. Preach 
it to yourselves, my hearers, at home and abroad. 
Carry it with you into your families, your business, 
your recreations. Be temperate in your feelings, 
your passions, your words and actions. Be tem- 
perate in your joys, and temperate in the indulgence 
of your sorrows. 

It is by temperance in all things, that we are to 
1 lay aside the weight ' that would encumber us on 
our Christian race. 

' They that strive for the mastery,' says the apos- 
tle, £ are temperate in all things.' They did it to 
obtain a 1 corruptible crown ; ' we, an incorrupti- 
ble. 



269 



SERMON XXXIX. 



MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 
Proverbs xxvii. 20. — he that maketh haste to be rich, shall 

NOT BE INNOCENT. 

The book of Proverbs is a store-house of prac- 
tical wisdom. It is so justly founded on the princi- 
ples of human nature, and so adapted to the 
permanent interests of man, that it agrees with 
the manners of every age, and contains rules for 
the direction of conduct in every rank and condition 
of life, however varied in its complexion, or diversi- 
fied in its circumstances. It would be well if this 
book were more diligently studied at the present 
day. The numerous embarrassments which are 
constantly occurring, are conclusive evidence that 
its maxims are not known, or, if known, are disre- 
garded. Though not universally and invariably 
applicable, and though not always to be understood 
in a literally strict sense, without any exceptions, 
yet there is enough to serve as a sure and safe guide 
in the business of life. 

• I am not certain that a due attention to the 
declaration of my text would not be sufficient to 
prevent all the difficulties, the ruin and distress 
23* 



270 



MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 



which, in the operations of trade, so often take place. 
It is, probably, making haste, to be rich, that is 
the cause of all this ; and surely if there were not 
other and greater evils, — if it did not lead to the 
absorption of the mind by worldly cares, and an 
unremitted devotion to worldly business, — ' He that 
maketh haste to be rich cannot be innocent.' 

1. In the first place, making haste to be rich leads 
to over-trading ; to hazardous, perhaps to rash and 
imprudent, speculations. He that maketh haste to 
be rich, is not satisfied with moderate profits in a 
safe and prudent line of business. He must needs 
project and over-trade. c He considereth not,' as 
saith the author of my text, ' that poverty shall 
come upon him.' A little consideration would 
show him that poverty is the ordinary consequence 
of adventuring in trade beyond what his capital 
admits and justifies. Demands often come before 
returns, and returns may never come, — at least in 
proportion to the sum at stake. 

Attend to the history of those who have failed in 
the pursuit of wealth. The most frequent cause of 
their failure is hastening to be rich by over-trading. 
Attend to the history of those who have succeeded. 
The most frequent cause of their success, is pru- 
dent, moderate, persevering industry. 

I grant that you may point to hundreds, who 
have succeeded in the foolish, sinful course my text 
condemns ; but tell me how many thousands have^ 
been overwhelmed in ruin and misery by it. 

I have been told, by the wise and observing, that 



MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 



271 



of those who come to this place to engage in mer- 
cantile pursuits, more than one half, — perhaps two- 
thirds, — are disappointed, and become embarrassed, 
or become bankrupt. 

It is owing to over-trading, and to another evil 
which leads to over-trading, and arises from a ' haste 
to be rich,' I mean the practice of excessive surety- 
ship. 1 Be not thou one of those that strike hands, 
or of them that are sureties for debts.' 

I confess that I approach this subject with some 
hesitation. Not because I have any doubts, or be- 
cause I have any apprehensions in delivering my 
opinion, but because experience has led me to fear 
that it is a fruitless task to oppose it. I should long 
since, however, have desisted from preaching, if I 
had been discouraged by the want of the fruit I 
expected from my preaching. In a multitude of 
cases we are obliged to adopt the plaintive, despond- 
ing complaint of the prophet, ' I have labored in 
vain, and spent my strength for nought.' 

I have said excessive suretyship. I would not 
condemn all suretyship. Even the wise author of 
my text does not wholly forbid it. There are cases 
in which he says, i An honest man is surety for his 
neighbor,' though at the same time he says, ' A man 
void of understanding becomes surety.' These 
assertions appear contradictory, but are not really 
so. To lend, and to become surety, are offices of 
friendship which we may sometimes impose upon 
ourselves, but we must be careful not to exceed the 
proper limits. If it be to serve a friend in a case of 



272 



MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 



strong necessity, and for a sum we can afford to lose, 
the case is clear. 4 Lose thy money for thy brother 
and thy friend.' 

By excessive suretyship, I mean an amount which 
exceeds the bounds of propriety. These bounda- 
ries are exceeded when you become surety for such 
an amount as will essentially injure you, if you 
should be called to pay it. ' If thou hast nothing 
to pay, why should he take thy bed from under 
thee ? ' i Suretyship hath undone many a good es- 
tate, and shaken them like a wave of the sea. 
Mighty men hath it driven from their houses, so 
that they wandered among strange nations.' 

The boundaries of propriety are also exceeded, 
when you become surety for so large an amount as 
will tempt your friend to hazard so much as will 
ruin him, if he should be unsuccessful, and perhaps 
hang a millstone about his neck, from which he can- 
not free himself. 

To become surety for more than you can afford 
to lose without distress, is a cruel injustice to your 
family and those who may look to you for support 
and assistance. To become surety for so much as 
will tempt another to risk more than there is a 
strong probability, — a mora] certainty, — he will be 
able to repay, is an act of cruelty to him. You 
may be accessary to his ruin. You may be the 
cause of it. How many young persons have been 
ruined by the cruel kindness of their wealthy 
friends, in lending them their names for a large 
amount ! How many have themselves been ruined 



MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 



273 



by lending their names for an amount, the loss of 
which they could not sustain ! 

I have often quoted, and think it well to quote in 
this connection, the declaration of the apostle, ' He 
that provideth not for his own, especially those of 
his own house, hath denied the faith, and is worse 
than an infidel.' 

Now reflect, I beseech you, when you are about 
to give your name as surety for another, whether 
you are not subjecting yourselves to this denunci- 
ation. Reflect whether you are not about to sign 
the death-warrant to the prosperity, — perhaps the 
existence, — of those who are nearest and dearest 
to you. Reflect on your wife and children, and 
your aged parents. Reflect on the poor whom you 
might relieve by your bounty ; the works of piety 
and utility you might promote by your benefac- 
tions. ' Shall I be the author of misery to my 
family ? Shall I, to serve one child, beggar all my 
children ? ' — perhaps to serve a stranger, — it may 
be, to serve one who is utterly unworthy of the 
favor, and is deceiving me with false pretences at 
the moment he is soliciting this act of kindness ? 

The character of such a one is thus fitly drawn by 
the author of my text. ' Many, when a thing was 
lent them, reckoned it to be found, and put them to 
trouble that helped them. Till he hath received, he 
will kiss a man's hand, and for his neighbor's money 
will speak submissively ; but when he should repay, 
he will prolong the time and return words of grief, 
and complain of the times. ' The wicked borrow- 
eth and payeth not again.' 



274 



MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 



I have spoken of suretyship as a cause of em- 
barrassment and bankruptcy. But I have some- 
times heard of this language being used in connection 
with pecuniary obligations contracted by suretyship. 
' A man is under an obligation to pay his oivn debts, 
but not to pay the debts of others.' 

His own debts ! Whose debt is that for which 
he has become responsible ? Whose debt is that 
which he has given a pledge he will pay, if the 
principal should fail to pay it when called upon to 
do so ? 

Is he under no obligation to pay on the faith of 
whose suretyship, on the sight of whose name, the 
money was loaned ? Can any conscientious man 
use such language as this ? ' My soul come not 
thou into their secret. Unto their assembly mine 
honor be not thou united.' There is as sacred an 
obligation to pay such a debt as any debt that can 
be contracted. Nay, possibly, the obligation may be 
more sacred than on him to whom the money was 
lent, because on the surety, in many, if not most 
cases, the chief reliance for payment is placed. 
It is for the debtor to remunerate his surety when 
he is able to do so. It is his duty to remunerate all 
his creditors to the utmost farthing, when it is in 
the power of his hand to do it. 

I am sensible that, in the vicissitude of human 
affairs, it has been the lot of not a few of you, my 
friends, to experience embarrassments and difficul- 
ties in your business transactions ; but it affords me 
the highest satisfaction to believe that no one woh 



MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 



275 



now hears me, has, under such embarrassments, for- 
feited his integrity, or lost any thing of the respect 
and confidence he had enjoyed. 

It is the lot of all to experience disappointments 
and misfortunes. ' Happy is he who condemneth not 
himself in that thing which he alloweth ! ' 

I have heard of those, — but not among you, — 
my hearers, who contract debts without the prospect 
or intention of paying them ; who 1 enter into 
leagues to deceive ; ' who pervert the relations of 
life ; transferring goods from, one to another, to de- 
fraud their creditors ; who 1 live at ease, and drink 
wine in bowls, and chant to "the sound of the viol/ 
while their creditors languish ; who betray their 
trust, and convert to their own use, what was given 
them for the benefit of others ; who surrender 
nothing that they can secrete ; are partial to their 
creditors ; insult those whom they have injured, and 
pique themselves on the tranquillity with which they 
can bear to be called villains. 

Compassion will and should be felt for one who 
has lived in affluence and become bankrupt ; but if 
he has been fraudulent, has defrauded his creditors, 
has bought and built, that he might live luxuriously, 
the compassion should rather fall on the friend 
whom he has betrayed ; the trader and artificer 
whose economy he has deranged ; the servant who 
entrusted him with his wages in an evil hour ; the 
widow whom he had caused to weep over destitute 
children, and execrate him, it may be, in the bitter- 
ness of her soul. 



276 



MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 



Alas ! When the bustle of life is over, he who 
has betrayed the confidence of friendship ; defraud- 
ed the trader and the artificer of the fruits of their 
honest diligence ; laid his sacrilegious hand on the 
portion of the widow and the fatherless; if his 
conscience be at all awakened, — must needs have 
bitter remembrances of the past, and fearful antici- 
pations of the future. 

It is 4 judgment come beforehand.' But not fully 
come. Would that it were so ! 

It is the premonition of conscience of a retribu- 
tion yet to come, in the awards of eternity. 

' A FAITHFUL MAN SHALL ABOUND WITH BLESS- 
INGS ; BUT HE THAT MAKETH HASTE TO BE RICH, 
SHALL NOT BE INNOCENT.' 



277 



SERMON XL. 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 

[Preached before the Society for Propagating the Oospel among the Indians and 
others in North America, 1820, and first printed at that time.] 

Luke xii. 48. — unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall 

MUCH BE REQUIRED. 

We cannot contemplate, for a moment, our con- 
dition as intellectual and moral beings, as experi- 
encing continual protection, and as enjoying the 
light and privileges of Christianity, without a deep 
conviction of the kindness and love of God. 

We behold around us innumerable creatures un- 
conscious of the value of existence, insensible to 
the profusion of beauty and magnificence which 
surrounds them, and incapable of the enjoyment 
which results from the cultivation of the powers of 
the understanding, and the exercise of the affections 
of the heart. We behold multitudes of our fellow- 
creatures, possessed of like faculties and affections 
with ourselves, either destitute of the means of 
intellectual and moral improvement, or enjoying 
but the partial and imperfect possession of them ; 
dwelling in the region of heathen darkness and 

tol. ii. 24 



278 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 



superstition, or placed in circumstances which ex- 
clude them from the full enjoyment of gospel light. 

By the condition in which we are placed, the 
most solemn obligations are imposed upon us. No 
talent which God has given us should be neglected, 
and no means of improvement with which He has 
furnished us, should be unimproved. If He has 
given us 1 more understanding than the beasts of 
the field, and made us wiser than the fowls of 
heaven,' it is, that we may devote our powers to 
noble purposes, and that, being so much exalted 
by nature above the animals around us, we may 
rise superior to the enjoyments of mere animal life. 
If He has distinguished us above many of our 
fellow-creatures by the means of knowledge ; if He 
has favored us with the instructions and promises 
and discoveries of the gospel ; if the Sun of Right- 
eousness has shone upon us with full and unclouded 
effulgence ; it is, that we may be guided in our 
opinions by the light which it conveys to the under- 
standing, and be the subjects of that holy influence 
which it sheds upon the heart and the life. If, 
aware of our weakness, and the power of sensible 
objects to draw us from our duty, He has appointed 
institutions adapted to strengthen our purposes of 
obedience, and to counteract the effect of the objects 
around us, it is, that by the observance and use of 
these institutions, we may be assisted in attaining 
the end for which the gospel was given us. 

Possessed, then, of rational and moral capacities, 
we should not be satisfied with low attainments in 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 



279 



knowledge and goodness. It is by the mind, the 
immaterial and immortal principle within us, that we 
resemble the Deity, and it is only by the cultivation 
of this principle that the resemblance can be pre- 
served. It is by the mind, the immaterial principle 
within us, that while on earth, we are susceptible 
of pure and exalted enjoyment, and that, in heaven, 
we may attain to ineffable and eternal felicity ; and 
it is only by the cultivation and improvement of 
this principle, that the purest enjoyment of earth, 
and the most exalted felicity of heaven, can be 
secured by us. Enjoying, too, the light and privi- 
leges of Christianity, we should use them for the 
purpose of preparing ourselves, by the grace of 
God, for our high destination. Communicating to 
us the most important and interesting truths 
relating to our Creator and ourselves, we should 
study the Scriptures, that our minds may be en- 
lightened by the truths they contain, that we may 
be guided by the instructions they impart, and may 
transcribe into our characters the examples of piety 
and virtue which they display. Favored with in- 
stitutions intended and adapted to advance the 
purposes for which we were created intelligent 
and immortal beings and were indulged with the 
blessings of the gospel, we should yield to these 
institutions a strict and diligent observance. 

But this is not all. We are to cultivate our own 
powers, and improve our own light, and use our 
own means of religious and moral instruction, not 
only that we may advance our own benefit, but be 



280 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 



useful also to others. We are formed for society. 
We have social affections. We depend upon society 
for much of our comfort and happiness. Our 
duties in this state are mutual and reciprocal. 
Receiving from others, we must impart to others, in 
return. Nor is this to be confined to those from 
whom we have received direct and personal benefits. 
Deriving advantage from the social state, we must 
labor to meliorate, improve, and elevate that state 
wherever it exists. 

Hence results the duty of diffusing the means of 
instruction; for the wisest of men has long ago 
told us, what, indeed, our own observation abun- 
dantly confirms, that ' for the soul to be without 
knowledge, is not good.' Hence, especially, results 
the duty of diffusing religious instruction ; for one 
almost as wise, at a much later period, has left it on 
record as the fruit of his researches and experience. 
' That there never was found in any age of the 
world, either philosophy, or sect, or religion, or 
law, or discipline, which did so highly exalt the 
public good, as the Christian faith.' 

But you need not the opinion of Lord Bacon, 
Christians, to convince you of the worth of Chris- 
tianity. No, — you are fully aware of its importance 
to the public welfare, and to private virtue and 
happiness ; how essential it is to the progress of 
civilization and the useful arts; how much it 
elevates the tone of public morals ; and how power- 
ful an influence it exerts where 1 law and discipline ' 
have no control. You are fully aware of its 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 



281 



beneficial effects on our personal condition, and on 
the relations of domestic life ; what light, and 
comfort, and joy it imparts wherever its influence 
is felt ; how much contentmeut, and patience, and 
resignation, and hope it inspires in poverty, and 
sickness, and sorrow, and death ; how it infuses 
sweetness into the bitterest cup, and tinges with 
brightness the darkest cloud of calamity ; how it 
has lighted up the passage of the grave, and pre- 
sented to the inquiring eye of faith a brighter 
region beyond it. Yes, — it ' has brought life and 
immortality to light;' it has opened the gates of 
the tomb, loosed the cerements of the dead, and 
given back the pious departed to the faith of 
surviving relatives. 

In the chamber of sickness, it has smoothed the 
pillow of the dying, filled a void in the heart which 
nothing else could fill, removed a reluctance to die 
which nothing else could abate, whispered peace to 
the departing spirit, and, like an angel from heaven, 
beckoned it upward to the abodes of everlasting 
rest and joy. 

Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable 
gift ! ' How many hearts, which have experienced 
its cheering encouragements, its divine supports, its 
animating hopes, will respond when I repeat, 
* Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift ! ' 

Such, my hearers, so efficacious, is the religion 
we have received, and which it is our duty, as there 
is need, and we have opportunity, to impart to 
others. Wherever the heralds of salvation are sent, 
24* 



282 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 



we should devoutly wish them a blessing from the 
Lord; and to every rational, practicable plan for 
promoting the diffusion of Christian truth, and of 
course advancing the best interests of mankind, we 
should afford, as we have ability, our patronage and 
aid. 

If there is a prospect of success, we must scatter 
our seeds in the wilds of Patagonia, cast our bread 
upon the waters of the Ganges, open a fountain of 
life in the Arabian desert, and kindle a flame, which 
shall diffuse light and heat, upon the mountains of 
the frozen pole. At least, we must pray that the 
kingdom of God may come, and we may not con- 
demn, however we may hesitate to assist, the 
feeblest and most unpromising effort. 

To human reason, nothing could appear more 
wild and extravagant than the original project of 
establishing the Christian Religion, with so many 
obstacles to overcome, and such trifling and insig- 
nificant means for effecting it. Without doubt, if it 
had been the work of man, it would soon have 
come to nought. Yet it stood and flourished, and 
extended itself. £ It has sent forth its boughs to the 
sea, and its branches to the rivers,' and, from past 
experience, we may well believe, that the time is has- 
tening on, when all nations shall repose under its 
foliage, and be refreshed by its fruit. 

It is not, however, to such extensive views, to 
such large and diffusive exertions, however honora- 
ble and useful, that we are called by the venerable 
Society, which I have the honor now to address. It 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 



283 



confines its attention to our own continent, labors to 
meliorate the condition of the natives of our own 
forests, extends its helping hand to the piously dis- 
posed in our new settlements, and assists in rebuild- 
ing the waste places of our Zion. 

In this comparatively limited, but actually ex- 
tensive field of usefulness, it has long and success- 
fully labored. Its efforts to communicate divine 
and human knowledge to the Aborigines have not 
been unavailing ; and of late, from a change in the 
mode of operation which experience has suggested, 
there is the prospect of a richer harvest of good. 

Of the instruction it has given to the young who 
were growing up without knowledge ; the warning it 
has addressed to the careless and irreligious who were 
living without God, the conviction it has brought to 
the unbelieving who were without hope in the world ; 
the comfort it has spoken to the desponding ; the 
consolation it has afforded the afflicted, and the 
peace it has imparted to the dying, who, without its 
benevolent interposition, might have died in then- 
sins ; of all this, the journals of its missionaries, 
and the reports of its committee, will abundantly 
testify. 

Its means of usefulness are in no degree com- 
mensurate with its opportunities. If it limits its 
views, as required by its charter, to the northern 
section of our own continent, still, a field is open 
before it sufficiently large to occupy its whole at- 
tention, and incalculably more than sufficient to 
exhaust its resources ; reaching from the Atlantic to 



284 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 



the Pacific, from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic 
Ocean and the frozen shores of Greenland. But it 
is only in its charter that it takes so wide a range. 
Over this extended space, it can cast only an anx- 
ious, and, but for the sure word of prophecy, a hope- 
less glance. It must return to a narrower sphere, 
happy if within this sphere it can do something to 
diffuse the blessings of civilization, and extend the 
bounds of the Redeemer's kingdom. 

Conscious of the dignity and importance of the 
objects which it labors to promote, it is not ashamed 
to solicit your cooperation. In doing this, it calls 
you to the most honorable office, that of 'fellow- 
workers with God ; ' to the best service, that of dis- 
pensing the Bread of Life ; to the highest reward, the 
reward of those who have ' turned many to righteous- 
ness, and who shall shine as the stars forever and 
ever.' 

Nor does it call you to a fruitless service, for, 
whilst it bids you obey the voice which cries from 
the wilderness, 4 Prepare ye the way of the Lord, 
make straight in the desert a highway for our God,' 
it invites you to hear the encouraging promise, ' The 
wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad, and 
the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose.' 

Would you be instrumental in accomplishing this 
glorious design ? Would you promote the spread 
of a religion which is productive of effects so bene- 
ficial, which thus softens the most rugged face of na- 
ture, converts the dreary waste into a fruitful field, 
and causes the solitary place to echo the notes of 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 



285 



grateful praise ? "Would you bear your part in re- 
claiming the wandering savage, in teaching him to 
know and feel 'the charities of father, son and 
brother,'* and in giving him a home of love and 
peace and piety? — cast in your offering. To ob- 
jects such as these, it will be faithfully applied. 
4 Freely ye have received, freely give.' 

The apostles of our Lord, and many of the early 
Christians, sustained the loss of every thing, but a 
good conscience, and the hope of heaven, that they 
might bring others to a participation of the heavenly 
treasure which was entrusted to them. They were 
not satisfied with enjoying its benefits, but labored, 
incessantly, to diffuse them. To their exertions, to 
the labors and sacrifices of these Christian Mis- 
sionaries and their successors, are we indebted for 
the exalted rank we hold, and the immortal hopes 
we entertain as Christians, and, as far as circum- 
stances demand, and opportunities allow, shall we 
not emulate their efforts ? 

Consider, I beseech you, my friends, whilst you 
are providing for the temporal comfort of your fel- 
low-creatures, whether you have done enough for 
their spiritual and eternal interests? By aiding 
some species of charity, you may encourage idle- 
ness and vice, and thus instead of lessening, may 
increase the amount of real suffering. But it is 
far otherwise with regard to the charity which 



* Milton. 



286 



CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 



I now recommend. By the diffusion of religious 
knowledge, you furnish the strongest incitements to 
industry, and the most powerful motives to virtue ; 
for religion hath said, * He that provideth not for 
his own, especially those of his own house, hath 
denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.' 
Religion also hath said, 4 Without holiness no man 
shall see the Lord.' ' Godliness is profitable unto 
all things, having the promise of the life that now 
is, and of that which is to come.' 

My hearers, we have received much, and much 
will be required of us. Highly exalted in point of 
privilege, it will be expected that our views will be 
enlarged, and our aims proportionably elevated. 
Happy will it be for us if we diligently improve the 
talents which have been given us, direct our steps 
by the light which has been imparted, faithfully ob- 
serve the institutions which have been appointed for 
our benefit, and promote, as we can, the improve- 
ment and happiness of our fellow-men. Then, when 
our conflict with the power of temptation is ended, 
and our warfare with sin and with death is accom- 
plished, we shall be able to give a good account of 
our stewardship, and, through the mediation of the 
Saviour, shall receive the reward of our fidelity in 
the kingdom of God. 



287 



SERMON XLI. 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 

[Preached at the Ordination of a Minister in Kennebunk, Maine, 1827.] 

Romans viii. 9. — if any man have not the sriRiT of christ, he 

IS NONE OF HIS. 

There is much contention in the world respect- 
ing the essential qualifications of a Christian dis- 
ciple. By many it is held, that the adoption of 
certain opinions, — distinct from a belief in the 
Christian religion and the possession of the Chris- 
tian character, — alone can give a title to this 
appellation. 

The Christian world is divided into a multitude 
of sects and denominations, differing from each 
other, more or less, in their modes of faith, though 
all acknowledging the same Master, and appealing 
to the same divine authority. With many of these, 
the reception of their views, and an adherence to 
their party, is essential to salvation. All, who are 
not within the limits they have drawn, must be lost. 
Hence the contempt, — mingled I trust with pity, — 
which is discovered, and the harsh epithets which 



288 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 



are used, by many professing Christians towards 
each other. Hence it is, that, with many, a bold, 
inveterate, intolerant zeal for favorite tenets, is a 
more effectual recommendation, and a stronger 
ground of attachment, than every other quality. 

How strangely do such persons mistake the na- 
ture of true religion! How do they forget, that, 
in their zeal for modes of faith, they lose the spirit 
of the gospel, and that, without this spirit, their 
faith and their zeal can profit them nothing ! Their 
faith, indeed, may be true in speculation, but, in its 
influence and effects, it loses this character. The 
faith of the gospel worketh by love, and no other 
faith is genuine. Their zeal, too, is kindled, — not 
at the Christian altar, — but by the flame of their 
own passions. It is false and unhallowed, destruc- 
tive of the kindest and best feelings of their nature. 
Far better were it that their faith were less sound, 
and their temper more Christian. 

' If any man have not the spirit of Christ, he 
is none of his.' You have here a test, my hearers, 
by which you may judge of your own character 
and standing as Christians, and of that of others. 
If you have not the spirit of Christ, you are none 
of his. If you perceive in others a destitution of 
this spirit, however loud their pretensions, however 
ardent their zeal, you may decide that they also are 
none of his. 

And what was the spirit of Christ ? It may be 
told in a few words. The spirit of Christ was 
meek, humble, benevolent, devout. Where this 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 



289 



spirit to any considerable degree exists, there is a 
genuine disciple of Christ. Where any consider- 
able portion of it is wanting, there may be a disci- 
ple in name, but it is only in name. He may have 
the form of sound ivords, but there is no substance. 
I care not by what title he is designated, Orthodox 
or Heterodox, Unitarian or Trinitarian, Calvinist or 
Arminian, — he is not a Christian. He has not 
the spirit of Christ, and the word of God assures 
me that he is none of his. 

It is high time that the language on this subject 
should be changed. The question should not be, — 
To what church does he belong? What is his 
creed ? but — What is his spirit ? Has he the spirit 
of Christ? 

I. Is he meek, or is he passionate? — forgiving, 
or revengeful ? 

There can be no such thing as a quarrelsome, 
revengeful Christian. It is a contradiction in terms. 
A forgiving spirit is essential to the Christian char- 
acter. It was the spirit of Christ. He inculcated 
forgiveness by his precepts. ' If thy brother tres- 
pass against thee, rebuke him ; and if he repent, 
forgive him. And if he trespass against thee seven 
times in a day, and seven times in a day turn again 
to thee, saying, I repent, thou shalt forgive him.' 
He exhibited it in his life. ' When he was reviled, 
he reviled not again ; ' and when he poured out his 
soul an offering for sin, it was his dying petition, 
* Father, forgive them, for they know not what they 
vol. ii. 26 



290 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 



do.' He hath left us an example that we should 
follow his steps. 

2. Is he humble, or is he proud and arrogant ? 
disposed to elevate himself above those around 
him, and saying to others, in manners at least, if 
not in words, ' Stand by, for I am wiser, or richer, 
or holier than thou ? ' 

There can be no such thing as a proud Christian. 
Humility lies at the foundation of the Christian 
character. The benediction on the poor in spirit, is 
the first of the beatitudes. It has the promise of 
the kingdom of heaven. It was the spirit of Christ. 
' He humbled himself, and took upon him the form 
of a servant, and became obedient unto death, even 
the death of the cross.' 

3. Is he benevolent, or is he hard, unfeeling, 
contracted ? 

There can be no such thing as an unkind, unfeel- 
ing Christian. There can be no such thing as an 
exclusive, censorious Christian. There may be the 
form, indeed, but the spirit is not there. There is 
a name to live, but he is dead. £ Love is the ful- 
filling of the law.' c The end of the command- 
ment is love. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart, and with all thy strength, and 
with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as thyself. 
On these two commandments hang all the law and 
the prophets.' On every page of the gospel, love, 
diffusive love, is inscribed in characters which can- 
not be misunderstood, — clear, distinct, indelible. 

Can any one, then, be destitute of this spirit, and 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 



291 



yet a Christian ? It was the spirit of Christ. His 
temper was most benevolent and kind. He has 
displayed to us the character of God as love, and 
has exhibited a perfect pattern of it in his own 
life. 

4. Is he devout ? 

Like him whom he professes to serve, is it his 
meat and his drink to do the will of his heavenly 
Father ? Like him, does he have reference in all 
his conduct to God ? Like him, does he hold fre- 
quent communion with God, and delight in such 
communion ? 

There can be no such thing as an undevout Chris- 
tian. Piety to God is as essential to the Christian 
character, as justice and benevolence to man. If to 
love our neighbor is the second commandment in 
the law, to love the Lord our God is the first. From 
love to God must love to our neighbor proceed. No 
man can be a true Christian who merely complies 
with the second table in the law. He may be a 
believer in Christ, gentle in his disposition, humble 
in his deportment, benevolent and charitable in his 
conduct, and yet be destitute of an essential part of 
the Christian character. He may be all this, and 
have no love to God. He may be all this, and 
seldom or never think of. God. 

To have the spirit of Christ, he must be able to 
say, ' I am here, not to do mine own will, but the 
will of Him who sent me.' To have the spirit of 
Christ, he must be able to say, and to feel it when 
he says, ' The Father is with me.' To have the 



292 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 



spirit of Christ, he must be able to say, — and from 
his heart to say so, — however bitter the cup which 
he is called to drink, — ' Father, not as I will, but as 
thou wilt.' 

I repeat it, — let not the question be, — To what 
church does he belong ? What is his creed ? but, 
4 What manner of spirit is he of?' W T here the 
spirit of Christ is most apparent in a church ; where 
the simplicity, the humility, the piety, the mildness, 
the condescension, and forbearance of its members 
are most conspicuous ; where a fervent, yet moderate 
zeal to promote, — not the interest of a party, — but 
vital godliness, is most eminently displayed, there is 
a church of Christ; a church formed on the model 
which its head has exhibited ; a church which he 
will not disown. 

To be meek, humble, benevolent, devout. Such 
is the Christian character. Such was the spirit of 
Christ. Such must be our spirit, or we are 

NONE OF HIS. 

My hearers ! It was well said by W T esley, or 
by some one else, that there were no Calvinists nor 
Arminians in heaven ; meaning that all would be 
united in one faith, as they would be bound to- 
gether by one bond of affection. 

Till we arrive in heaven, if, through the mercy * 
of God, and the mediation of the Saviour, we are 
permitted to go there, we shall never be united in 
all the particulars that make up a human creed. 
Differing as men do in the structure of their minds, 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 



293 



in their constitutional temperament, in the circum- 
stances in which they are placed, in the state of 
feeling in which they examine the sacred records, 
it is not wonderful that they should differ about 
every doctrine which admits of a difference of 
opinion. It would be wonderful indeed if they did 
not. 

I am not prepared to say that they may not 
innocently differ, and that great good may not 
result from their disagreement. I am not prepared 
to say, that one mode of faith may not be better 
adapted to a certain stage of progress in cultivation 
and refinement, or to produce beneficial effects on 
certain minds and certain dispositions than another. 
Sure I am that this disagreement has led to the 
preservation of the sacred text in greater purity and 
uncorruptness, to the more diligent study of the 
Scriptures, and has given scope for the exercise of 
the best Christian grace,; — the grace of charity. 
Alas ! for good men, that this purpose is so seldom 
answered ! 

But is it visionary to believe that it will yet be 
answered? that we shall yet be united in this 
which constitutes the chief ornament of the Chris- 
tian character ? Is it visionary to believe that the 
professed disciples of Christ will possess so much 
of the spirit of their Master, as to be kept from 
falling- out by the way? 

How beautiful is the delineation which is given 
us of this heavenly grace of charity by the apostle ! 
How beautiful is it in itself ! How important, — 
25* 



294 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 



how necessary ! We may have faith enough to 
remove mountains, and zeal enough to become 
martyrs for our faith, and beneficence enough to 
give all our goods to feed the poor, and yet, if we 
have not charity, we are nothing. 

£ Charity never faileth.' When tongues shall 
cease and speculative knowledge shall vanish away ; 
when faith shall be lost in the vision of God, and 
hope in the enjoyment of celestial felicity, charity 
will remain, diffusing its benign influence through 
the abodes of the blessed, and binding those, — yea, 
and more than those, — together in heaven, whom 
it had united on earth. 

Let me inculcate this charity upon you, my 
hearers, as that which it is most important for you 
to possess and cultivate and display. Do you bear 
the name of Christ? Be ambitious, above all 
things, to have this distinguishing characteristic of 
your Master. Remember the prayer which he of- 
fered up for his disciples, — for you, — for his fol- 
lowers in all times, — that they might be one, even as 
he and his Father were one. Remember the lesson 
of mutual kindness and good will which he enforc- 
ed by an appeal to his own example, 6 By this shall 
all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have 
love one to another.' 

Cherish those benevolent affections which will 
prompt you to every kind office, and will restrain 
you from every unkind word, and from all severe 
and uncharitable judgment. If you find in the 
community of Christians those who are exclusive, 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 



295 



bigoted, censorious, — pity them and pray for them, 
but do not imitate them. If they revile you, if they 
circulate evil reports of your faith or your conduct, 
revile not, traduce not again. Return not railing 
for railing, but contrariwise blessing. In as far as 
they have what you believe to be the truth, — re- 
joice ; in as far as they have the spirit of Christ, — 
love it, and hope that, notwithstanding their bigotry, 
they may belong to Christ, and may be found in 
heaven. Yes, — and may find in heaven, and re- 
cognize as brethren, many, very many, with whom 
they disdained to hold communion upon earth. 

Seek for Christian truth, — for the truth once de- 
livered to the saints, but hold and speak the truth 
in meekness and love. Instead of prying, with too 
much curiosity, into the deep things of God, study, 
especially, what is plain and practical. Study, 
most especially, the instructions and the life of Jesus, 
never forgetting that the faith which is accept- 
able, IS NOT SO MUCH THE FAITH OF THE UNDER- 
STANDING AS OF THE HEART. 

In conformity with the ancient, and, I may per- 
haps add, the invariable usage of the Congregration- 
al churches, till the spirit of modern innovation, — 
wise it may be, — has sought to discard it, I now 
turn to you, my young friend, who have the 
deepest interest in the solemnities of this occa- 
sion. 

The sentiments I have now expressed are not 
new to you. They have been inculcated upon you 



298 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT, 



from your early childhood, and find, if I mistake 
not, a sincere and earnest advocate in your own 
breast. You have been taught to reject the badge 
of party, and, whilst you sought with an unfettered 
mind for Christian truth, to labor above all things 
to possess the Christian spirit. You have been 
taught that it belongs not to mortals, frail and fal- 
lible, who are neither apostles nor evangelists, to 
draw the limits within which the mode of faith is 
safe, and beyond which it is fatal. Thus you have 
been taught. You are now yourself a teacher, and 
it remains for you to determine how far the in- 
structions of the past shall exert an influence on 
your future practice. You go from ministerial 
guidance, to be yourself a minister and guide to 
others. 

There are those, who, as well as you, would for- 
give me, if I were now to give language to the 
feelings with which your connection with the trans- 
actions of this day has inspired me. But I must 
forbear. The obtrusion of such feelings would be 
unsuitable to the place in which I stand, and the 
occasion on which we are assembled. 

And yet, when I advert to the near relation in 
which I have stood to you as your pastor, and the 
increased responsibility which your early loss of pa- 
ternal counsel imposed upon me, I feel as if I might 
be permitted to breathe, — with more than common 
fervency ,- — the prayer that God would £ preserve and 
keep you, would cause his face to shine upon you, 
and give you rest.' Affection for the living, and the 



THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 



297 



cherished remembrance of the departed, give strength 
and earnestness to the prayer. 

Go forth, then, with the blessing and the prayers 
of many hearts, into this field of your ministerial 
labors. May a better blessing also attend you! 
c Let your conversation be as becometh the gos- 
pel of Christ, and whether I come and see you, or 
else be absent, may I hear of your affairs, that 
you, and the people of your charge, stand fast in 
one spirit, striving together for the faith of the 
gospel.' 



29S 



ORDER OF THE SERVICES 

AT THE ORDINATION IN KENNEBUNK. 



Introductory Prater, by Mr, Frothingham, of Boston. 
Select Portions of the Scriptures, by Mr. Barrett, of Boston. 
Sermon, by Dr. Lowell, of Boston. 

Ordaining Prater, by Dr. Kirkland, of Harvard University. 
Charge, by Mr. Fletcher, of Kennebunk. 
Right Hand of Fellowship, by Mr. Ripley, of Boston. 
Address to the People, by Dr. Nichols, of Portland. 
Concluding Prater, by Dr. Parker, of Portsmouth. 



0 



299 



SERMON XLII. 



[Extract from a Sermon preached in the "West Church, in Boston, on 
the Lord's Day after the death of George Wadsworth Wells, 
successively Minister of Kennebunk and G-roton.] 

Psalms xlvi. 10. — be still, and know that i am god. 

I can offer no better consolation, — I need not 
desire to offer any better consolation, than this, — 
to my afflicted friends who come here to-day to ask 
an interest in our prayers, and to receive our heart- 
felt sympathy. I desire no better consolation for 
myself under the loss of one whom I loved and 
valued; who, from infancy, was an object of my 
pastoral care, and for whom, from his early loss of 
paternal counsel, I felt a double responsibility. 

Through life, he was to me as a son to a father, 
and they who best knew him will know with what 
satisfaction I must have witnessed the development 
of his character, and his progress in knowledge and 
in Christian excellence. I would fain hope that it 
was permitted me to do something in aid of his 



300 



EXTRACT FROM A SERMON. 



inestimable mother, — now in heaven, — in the for- 
mation of that character. 

He was virtuous from his childhood. At school, 
at the university, — as a student of theology and 
as a minister of the gospel, — an example of fidel- 
ity. • 

He was modest, unassuming, retiring; yet 'firm 
in purpose, inflexible in right ; ' of high moral prin- 
ciple ; abhorring meanness and deceit ; never shrink- 
ing from duty at whatever cost ; sacrificing, — as it 
is believed, — life itself to a conscientious conviction 
of what duty required of him. 

As a husband and father, a son and brother, and 
a Christian minister, I know not where I shall look 
to find a better model. The heart-bitterness of 
those to whom he stood in these near relations, and 
the warm demonstrations of respect and love which 
his people have given, in his life and at his death, 
are his best eulogy. 

If the devoted attention, day and night, of con- 
jugal affection, of a wife, — alas, how early widowed ! 
— if the fervent wishes and prayers of many hearts, 
could have availed to save a life so dear and valua- 
ble, ' our brother had not died.' 

It is God who has taken the husband and father, 
the son and brother and Christian minister, — affec- 
tionate, devoted, faithful, — from domestic happi- 
ness and ministerial duty, in the midst of his years 
and usefulness. God has done it. 'Be still and 
know that it is God.' 

It is a striking illustration of the uncertainty of 



EXTRACT FROM A SERMON. 



301 



human life, the fallacy of human calculations, that, 
in visiting a parishioner, a little before his death, 
who was sick of an incurable disease, he took a 
last leave of her as of one who was on the verge of 
eternity, but that sick parishioner survives, and he 
is himself laid, for a little season, in ' the new tomb ' 
which she had prepared for herself. 

His death was in harmony with his life. In the 
early part of his sickness he wished to recover, — 
or rather, as I believe, — he felt as the apostle felt, 
when he said, ' I am in a strait betwixt two," having 
a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far 
better ; nevertheless to abide in the flesh is more 
needful for you.' 

He calmly resigned himself to the will of God, — 
took leave of the loved ones who were near him, 
and ' fell asleep in Jesus.' 

' Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord. 
Yea, saith the Spirit, for they rest from their 
labors, and their works do follow them.' 



VOL. II. 



26 



302 



SERMON IIIIL 



WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD. 

[Preached at the Dedication of a Church in Milton, 1829, and first printed 
at that time.] 

Ezra yii. 20. — and whatsoever more shall be needful for the 

HOUSE OF THY GOD — BESTOW IT. 

The temple erected by Solomon was destroyed 
by Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, about four 
hundred years after its erection. It continued in 
ruins fifty-two years, till the first year of the reign 
of Cyrus, king of Persia, at Babylon. He permitted 
the Jews to return to Jerusalem, from whence they 
had been carried captive, and to lay the foundation 
of the second temple. After various interruptions, 
it was completed and dedicated in the reign of 
Darius, about twenty years from its commencement. 
Sixty-nine years afterwards, Ezra, a Jew of distinc- 
tion, then at Babylon, was commissioned by Arta- 
xerxes Longimanus, a successor of Darius, to return 
to Jerusalem with the Jews who still remained in 
his kingdom, and to take with them their silver and 
gold, and the silver of the temple, and offerings of 
the king and his counsellors, to buy victims for 
sacrifice. 



WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD. 303 

The words of the text are a part of the commis- 
sion that was thus given to Ezra. After enumerat- 
ing the articles which Ezra was to purchase for the 
house of his God, the king adds, ' And whatsoever 
more shall be needful for the house of thy God 
which thou hast occasion to bestow, bestow it out 
of the king's treasury.' 

The temple at Jerusalem, especially the first, was 
a magnificent edifice. Its decorations were splen- 
did, and the preparation for its service expensive. 
Gold and silver and precious stones were lavished 
upon it, and flocks and herds innumerable were 
offered in sacrifice upon its altar. 

It is inconsistent with the genius of Christianity, 
with the character of its founder, with the spiritu- 
ality of its doctrines, and the simplicity of its insti- 
tutions, that its temples should be adorned with 
magnificence, or its worship characterized by gor- 
geousness and splendor. It is inconsistent, too, with 
the simplicity of Congregationalism, whose pattern 
is the primitive church, which was established and 
modelled by him 'who took upon him the form of a 
servant, and was meek and lowly in heart.' But 
however incongruous in a Christian temple may be 
magnificence and splendor, a style of architecture 
chaste and elegant, decorations simple and beautiful, 
adapted to the improved taste of the age in which 
we live, are not incompatible with the nature and 
spirit of our religion, or with the precepts or example 
of its founder. If God has given us skill, it may 
be employed in his service, and our ingenuity is 



304 



WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 



well exerted, and our taste well displayed, when its 
object is to add to the symmetry and beauty of the 
sanctuary. 

It is honorable to you, my friends, who have 
called us to this work of consecration, that you have 
brought, not indeed of your silver and gold, but of 
the firm and enduring product of your soil, as an 
offering to the Lord ; that you have deemed it suit- 
able and proper, whilst these rocks were converted 
into 4 sealed houses to dwell in,' that they should 
furnish materials also for a house for your God. 

And now that you have completed this house, 
and have consecrated it to Him for whose service it 
was erected, I address you in the language of the 
text, 4 Whatsoever more shall be needful for the 
house of your God, — bestow it.' Be not back- 
ward at any time to contribute what shall be need- 
ful to render it commodious, and to advance the 
purposes to which it is devoted. Every thing, how- 
ever trivial, which renders the place in which you 
assemble for worship an object of more interest, 
serves to bind you to it and to cement the union 
of the worshippers. 

You have erected and dedicated a Christian tem- 
ple. We take it as a pledge that you will make 
honorable provision for the ministration of the word 
and ordinances of Christianity, and that you will 
bestow upon them, as you are able, your constant 
attendance. In justice to yourselves you will make 
this provision, and will not 1 forsake the assembling 
of yourselves together as the manner of some is.' 



THE HOUSE OF GOD. 



305 



Manifesting, as you have now done, your sense of 
the value of public worship, you will not deny your- 
selves so great a privilege, or encourage, by your 
example, the neglect of an institution so important 
to the best interests of society. 

But this is not all. The history of the patriarchs, 
of the prophets, of the apostles, of the truly pious 
in every age, furnishes abundant testimony to the 
profound reverence, to the godly fear, to the deep 
humiliation, with which these holy men came into 
the more immediate presence of Almighty God, and 
addressed him in the language of prayer and praise. 
When Abraham stood before the Lord, interceding 
for the sinful inhabitants of Sodom, he offered his 
supplications in the garb of humility, and with 
trembling opened his mouth. 'Behold I who am 
but dust and ashes, have taken it upon me to speak 
unto the Lord.' When Jacob awoke from the sleep 
in which he had received a revelation from heaven 
respecting his own destiny, and the destiny of his 
descendants, he said, ' Surely the Lord is in this 
place, and I knew it not, and he was afraid, and 
said, How dreadful is this place ! This is none 
other than the House of God, and the gate of hea- 
ven.' When Moses was approaching the burning 
bush from whence issued the voice of the Deity, 
that voice bade him refrain. ' Draw not nigh ; take 
off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon 
thou standest is holy ground.' When Elijah stood 
at the mouth of the cave to hold communion with 
the Most High, though he remained unmoved at 

26* 



306 



WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 



the sound of the thunder and the whirlwind, yet when 
he heard the still small voice, Elijah ' wrapped him- 
self in his mantle and hid his head.' It was thus that 
holy men of old came, I do not say without levity, 
I do not say with seriousness, but with holy rever- 
ence and awe, with deep humility and self-abase- 
ment, to commune with God. And well it might 
be so, for they knew the character of the great and 
awful Being who condescended to admit their ap- 
proach to him. Well it might be so, for they knew 
that this Being was the Creator, not of themselves 
alone, and of the world, — vast as it was, — which 
they inhabited, but of the universe ; who spake, and 
it was ; who might speak, and it would not be ; the 
£ great and only Potentate ; King of kings and Lord 
of lords ; ' infinitely greater, infinitely more exalted, 
than the highest reach of the highest intellect could 
attain. It was in the presence of such a Being 
that they prostrated their souls in holy reverence, 
and hid their faces, and acknowledged that they 
were but dust and ashes. 

And it is into the presence of such a Being, my 
hearers, that you will come whenever you enter this 
sanctuary, and join in the public acts of religion. It 
is into the presence of the High and Holy God, 
appearing, not indeed as in the terrors of Mount 
Sinai, but as in the face of Jesus Christ, — yet still 
the High and Holy God — worthy of the pro- 
foundest homage, and of the most exalted senti- 
ments of devotion. The ground on which you will 
stand is holy ground, for it is devoted to the pur- 



THE HOUSE OF GOD. 



307 



poses of piety, and will be consecrated by the 
presence of the Most High. 

' Whatsoever shall be needful for ' the acceptable 
worship of God in this house, bestow it. The ad- 
monition, 4 Keep thy foot when thou goest to the 
house of God,' implies caution — heed — watchful- 
ness — lest the deportment be not such as becometh 
the house of God, — sedateness, — serious thought 
by the way. And the farther admonition, ' Let not 
thy heart be hasty to utter any thing before God,' 
implies that every word should be weighed, that 
nothing should be uttered by the lips, or proceed 
from the heart, that has not been the subject, as far 
as might be, of deliberate reflection. 

Let me say, that they are hasty in uttering their 
thoughts and feelings before God, who neglect to 
make all the preparation they can make for his 
service ; — who spend the season for this preparation 
in listless indolence, in idle musings, in vain and 
trifling conversation, in unnecessary business, or in 
the preparation of the body in ' outward adorning] 
and give no portion of it to pious meditation, to 
self-communion, to prayer for the sanctifying in- 
fluences of the Holy Spirit, that the approaching 
service may be engaged in with becoming serious- 
ness, and result in the fruits of holy living. It is 
recorded of Lydia, that 'the Lord opened her 
heart that she attended unto the things which were 
spoken of Paul ; ' and though the age of miracles is 
past, we have no reason to think that the Spirit of 
God has ceased to operate on the hearts of men, or 



308 



WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 



that He will withhold now, more than then, His 
purifying influences from those who seek and 
desire them. 

Let me further say, that it is next to impossible 
that any can engage with a proper spirit in this 
service, who have not thus, by previous meditation 
and prayer, adjusted their minds to the posture of 
devotion. If they go to the house of God as they 
go to their ordinary business, or if they go to the 
house of God as they would go to a rational 
amusement, I will not say that they cannot, but 
I will say that there is little reason to believe they 
can perform an acceptable service. It would be 
almost a miracle if, in a moment, they should divest 
themselves of worldly thoughts, and present a pious 
offering. They may indeed, by the grace of God, 
be awakened, when they least expect it, and I had 
almost said, when they least deserve it, to serious 
reflection, to an intense and absorbing attention to 
the truths of religion, — they may even come ' to 
scoff, and remain to pray,' but there is more proba- 
bility that they will go away as they came, 
unimpressed, unaffected, worldly, if not sensual, 
with something, perhaps, of God and heaven on 
their lips, but with little of them in their hearts. 

And where will they go ? — Alas ! how many go 
to plunge at once into the subjects of week-day in- 
terest which for a time, perhaps, had been banished, 
and to recall the swarm of vain and busy images 
which, it may be, for a little season, had taken 
their flight. How many go (in our cities at least) 



THE HOUSE OF GOD. 



309 



from paying their homage to God, to paying their 
civilities to their fellow-mortals, often to the annoy- 
ance of those who desire to be uninterrupted, to 
have a breathing-time from earthly frivolities, to 
be alone with their God, or in the midst of their 
families ; and often preventing the intrusion of se- 
rious thought, where, without this interruption, it 
might have been awakened. How many are there, 
in regard to whom we must take up the lamen- 
tation of the prophet, ' The ways of Zion do mourn 
because they come not to her solemn feasts.' How 
many who turn from ' the ways of Zion, to the tents 
of wickedness ! ' 

Spirits of our fathers ! Ye who fled from the 
world that ye might enjoy uninterrupted converse 
with your God in a wilderness! Ye who spent 
your Sabbaths in sweet communion with one 
another, and in holy communion with your Maker! 
With what emotions would you contemplate so 
wide a departure from your pious usages ! 

I call upon you, Christians, — you who love your 
religion and its institutions, and desire their pre- 
servation ; I call upon you, citizens, patriots, you 
who love your country, and desire its real welfare ; 
to check by your remonstrances, to check by your 
example, the growing violations of holy time, the 
growing neglect of preparation for holy services. 

I call upon you all, immortal beings, probation- 
ers for eternity, to prepare yourselves for the service 
of God's house, and to engage in it with seriousness 
and holy reverence. Never rise to pray, or to offer 



310 



WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 



praise, without remembering that yon rise to address 
' Him who looketh on the heart,' who cannot regard 
iniquity but with abhorrence, and to whom 'the 
sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination.' He who 
stands and ministers at the altar is only the appoint- 
ed leader in your devotions. If he were praying for 
you, it would seem, when the subjects are so mo- 
mentous, when your dearest interests are involved 
in the success of the petitions, that you would not 
be indifferent, — nay, that you would hang, in 
breathless suspense, upon his lips, lest he should fail 
to ask what you most need, or to press your petition 
with sufficient earnestness. But he is professedly 
praying with you ; and Oh ! how thoughtless, how 
awful is it, to come with feigned lips, or to turn away 
your minds, and refuse to bear your part in the 
offering ! 

Lord ! ' Wilt thou not revive us again, that thy 
people may rejoice in Thee ? ' Thou blessed Spirit 
who didst erst move ' upon the face of the waters,' 
and all was order, proportion, life and beauty, 
breathe into us the breath of spiritual life, reanimate 
our languid powers, quicken and strengthen our 
graces, and rekindle the drooping flame of piety in 
our breasts ! May that sacred day, hallowed and 
consecrated from generation to generation by so 
many prayers, and so many vows, come to us 
fraught with its holiest influences, and bearing the 
message of peace and reconciliation. May the 
praises we offer come up as incense, the repent- 
ance we exercise be a godly sorrow, and the vows we 
breathe, be accepted and registered in heaven ! 



THE HOUSE OF GOD. 



311 



My hearers ! We build material temples for the 
worship of God. We appropriate certain seasons 
to the purposes of devotion. We come together 
and unite in paying our homage to the Creator. 
It is well. God is the proper object of worship. 
Material temples facilitate the united peformance 
of it, and union in worship may kindle, or keep 
alive, and render more bright and vivid, the flame of 
piety. But material temples, as I have already 
indicated, are not essential to the worship of God. 
We may worship God like Isaac in the field, or 
like Jacob by the wayside, or like Elijah in the 
desert, or like David in the cavern, or like Peter 
upon the house top, or like our blessed Saviour in 
the mountain. For £ God dwelleth not in temples 
made with hands. Do not I fill the heaven and 
earth, saith the Lord ? ' 

Nor is union in worship essential, however bene- 
ficial and delightful. Isaac was alone when he 
went into the field for the purposes of devotion ; 
Jacob was alone when he worshipped by the way- 
side; Elijah was alone when he communed with 
God in the desert ; Peter was alone when he 
prayed upon the house-top ; and our blessed Sa- 
viour, leaving even the chosen companions of his 
earthly pilgrimage, ' went up into a mountain, apart, 
to pray.' 4 Enter into thy closet and shut thy door 
and pray to thy Father who is in secret, and thy 
Father who seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.' 

Nor, further, is any time exclusively appropriated 
to the worship of God. One day in seven, indeed, 



312 



WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 



has been specially set apart for this purpose, and 
we are under solemn obligations sacredly to observe 
it, but it would be sad indeed if we must wait the 
return of the Christian Sabbath to hold communion 
with our Maker. ' Every day will I bless Thee.' 
' Morning, and evening, and at noon will I pray.' 
Yes ! the father may pray as he labors for the fam- 
ily that is dependent on his daily labor for their 
daily bread, and find his labor encouraged and 
sweetened by the hallowed influence of prayer. 
The mother may pray as she watches the sleeping 
infant that God has committed to her charge, and 
feel herself prompted to closer watchfulness and 
stricter care, whilst she feels and acknowledges her 
obligations to Him who bestowed it. We may 
' be fervent in spirit,' whilst we are £ not slothful in 
business,' and be offering sacrifice, whilst we are 
performing acts of kindness and mercy. 

How powerful, Christians, are the motives to 
habitual seriousness and devotion ! — Gratitude, — 
our interest and happiness, present and future, for 
time and eternity; our perishable bodies, and our 
immortal minds. Look round upon the face of 
nature. Behold the tints of autumn diversifying 
the trees of the forest. The leaves are already 
falling, and mingling with the earth. At all times 
there is a voice in nature which reads a lesson of 
divine wisdom, and we should attentively listen. 
It comes with a deeper tone of interest when it 
tells us we are mortal, when, in the scenes which it 
has sketched with so much beauty, and arrayed in 



THE HOUSE OF GOD. 



313 



the richest and most glowing colors, it presents us 
with a picture of our fate. 

But the thoughtless will not heed this voice, if 
they hear it, and when they look upon tfie face 
of nature, it is only with a transient glance, or per- 
haps a glance of wonder, or of rapture, and not 
with the steady eye of contemplation, which reads 
the moral lesson it has portrayed, and reads to 
learn and feel it. And it is so too much with the 
votaries of business, for the hum of business has 
drowned the voice of instruction, and the thick 
vapor which surrounds them has obscured the 
objects which might otherwise engage the attention, 
and come with impression to the heart. And it is 
so with those who are trifling away life, or abusing 
it in vicious indulgences. A siren's voice has more 
power to allure them than the voice of God. They 
follow the guide which leads them along blindfold, 
and turn not to the light which irradiates the path 
of duty, and true happiness. 

4 Ah ! my friends, 7 says the voice of admonition, 
long ago addressed to the thoughtless and irreli- 
gious, — ' Ah, my friends, while we laugh and trifle, 
all things are serious around us. God is serious in 
calling and bearing with us. Christ is serious who 
shed his blood for us. The Holy Ghost is serious 
who striveth against the obstinacy of our hearts. 
The Holy Scriptures bring to our ears the most 
serious things in the world. The holy sacraments 
represent the most awful and affecting matters. 
The whole creation is zealous in serving God, and 

vol. ii. 27 



314 



WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 



us. All nature is full of ardent energy and exer- 
tion, and i& in constant labor and travail for our 
happiness. All that are in heaven, or hell, are 
seriously engaged. How then can we sleep and 
trifle ? We — for whose sake this universal zeal is 
expended ! ' 

The associations* which, in this place, must 
come up to every mind, impel me to dwell for a 
few moments, before I conclude, on another theme. 
We look around upon a fair inheritance. 1 The 
lines have fallen to us in pleasant places.' We are 
enjoying blessings such as belong not to any other 
nation on earth, and these blessings, under God, 
are the fruit of our fathers' labors and our fathers' 
blood. The generation which has gone before us, 
or is fast passing away, has a title to the veneration 
and gratitude of their successors, such as we never 
can furnish to those who come after us, — such 
perhaps, as our descendants can never furnish to 
the remotest posterity. 

The eventful period of our country's history, of 
which the stones from these hills shall be for a me- 
morial^ was a period of solicitude and trial, of which 
we can now have but a faint conception, and they 
who gave their days and nights to consultations for 
their country's safety and welfare, or devoted their 
wealth to their country's support, or poured out 
their blood upon the altar of their country's free- 



*See Note at the end of this discourse. 



THE HOUSE OF GOD. 



315 



dom, are worthy of all honor, if living, — of all 
veneration, if dead. Their deeds should be en- 
graven on the tablets of the hearts of their country- 
men, and their memories be held in perpetual 
remembrance. 

Let a monument be erected on the neighboring 
heights ; let it bear the inscription of the valor and 
devoted attachment to their country of those who 
fought and died there. Thither repair, — thither 
let your children and your children's children, — 
and the generations yet unborn, — repair, to learn by 
how severe a struggle, and at how dear a price, 
their independence was achieved, and their dearest 
rights secured to them. Thither let them repair to 
cherish the flame of patriotism, and render it more 
glowing and ardent. But this is not all. Oh no ! 
it is the least for which they should go thither. 
For to what purpose would have been their consul- 
tations for their country's safety, if the wisdom of 
God had not enlightened their councils ? or of what 
avail would have been the valor which encountered 
danger and death for their country's freedom, if the 
arm of God had not been made bare in its defence ? 
Yes ! — it was He who inspired their hearts with 
courage, and nerved their arm with strength, who 
6 taught their hands to war, and their fingers to fight.' 
It was He who was ' their fortress and their high 
tower, and their deliverer. If, then, we commemo- 
rate the noble daring, the generous sacrifices, the 
patriotic sufferings, which accomplished the great 
work of our country's independence, let us not 



316 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD. 

forget to whom alone it belonged to render that 
daring, and those sacrifices and sufferings, effectual. 
Above all, let us not forget to whom we owe it, that 
a far greater and better redemption hath been 
wrought out for us by sacrifices infinitely more val- 
uable, and sufferings infinitely more severe. In 
every heart let there be a monument erected which 
shall reach to heaven, and endure forever, and let it 
bear this inscription — Glory to God. 



317 



NOTE. 

The church at the dedication of -which this discourse was deliv- 
ered, was built of stone taken from a quarry in the neighborhood, 
from which the stone was taken for the monument at Bunker Hill. 
It was also near the residence of John Adams. It was to these 
circumstances that there was an allusion in the conclusion of the 
discourse. 



27* 



318 



ORDER OF SERVICES. 



The following is the Order of Performances, with the names of 
the officiating clergymen at the dedication of the Church in Milton. 

1. — Anthem. — ' In sweet exalted strains,' &c. 

2. — Introductory Prayer, by Mr. Gannett, of Boston. 

3. — Selections from Scripture, by Mr. Greenwood, of Boston. 

4. — Dedicatory Prayer, by Dr. Pierce, of Brookline, 

5. — Dedicatory Hymn, by Dr. Harris, of Dorchester. 

6. — Sermon, by Dr. Lowell. 

7. — Prayer, by Dr. Harris, of Dorchester. 

8. — Hymn, by Dr. Harris. 

9. — Anthem, (From Handel and Haydn Collection.) 
10. — Benediction, by Dr. Richardson, of Dorchester. 



319 



SERMON XLIV. 



THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD, AS MANIFESTED 
IN THE APPOINTMENT OF MEN, AND NOT ANGELS, TO 
THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 

[Preached at the Ordination of a Minister, in Lynn, and in Berlin, Mass., 1830, 
and then first printed.] 

Hebrews v. 2. — who can have compassion on the ignorant, and 

ON THEM THAT ARE OUT OF THE WAY, FOR THAT HE HIMSELF IS 
COMPASSED WITH INFIRMITY. 

All the works of God are works of wisdom and 
goodness. In saying this, I repeat what has been 
often said, — what, indeed, must be the sentiment of 
every reflecting mind, and the feeling of every de- 
vout heart. But it is well that it should be often 
said, as it may excite attention to the indications of 
this wisdom and goodness where it has not been 
awakened ; may serve to strengthen the impressions 
of admiration and gratitude already excited; and 
may lead to a train of thought which shall furnish 
new topics of admiration, and new incentives to 
love and obedience. 

I shall not traverse a wide field in illustrating the 



320 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 

sentiment I have advanced. It is enough that I di- 
rect your attention to that manifestation of wisdom 
and goodness which bears a relation to the transac- 
tions of this day, — which is displayed in the adap- 
tation of the Christian ministry to the circumstances 
and wants of mankind. With an opportunity for 
doing this, I am furnished by the words of the text, 
1 Who can have compassion on the ignorant, and 
on them that are out of the way, for that he himself 
also is compassed with infirmity.' 

These words, originally applied to the Jewish 
priesthood, present us with a touching and beautiful 
description of the nature of the sacred office. It is 
designed to enlighten the ignorance and reform the 
vices of mankind ; and it is entrusted to those who, 
from their consciousness of their own need of in- 
struction in knowledge and virtue, may be supposed 
to have a fellow-feeling and sympathy for the igno- 
rant and vicious. 

I remark, then, that the Christian ministry is en- 
trusted to those who are 1 compassed with infirmity,' 
and that we discern in this appointment the wisdom 
and goodness of God. Such is the theme of my 
discourse. And may He, to whom, in our ignorance 
and infirmity, we are permitted to look for light and 
strength, accompany the teaching of His word with 
the teachings of His Spirit, that what 1 is sown in 
weakness,' may be ' raised in power.' 

It would be absurd for me to offer arguments to 
prove that the ministry is entrusted to those who 
are ' compassed with infirmity.' ' I myself also am 



THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 



321 



a man ! ' was the language of the first preacher to the 
Gentile world, and the history of the church bears 
abundant testimony that his successors in every age 
might with emphatic propriety repeat the declaration. 
A man ! — what is he ? A creature of contrarieties 
and inconsistencies, — spiritual and material, intel- 
lectual and sensual ; resolving, and abjuring his res- 
olutions ; sinning and repenting ; to-day, soaring on 
the ardent wings of hope — to-morrow, sunk in the 
lowest depths of despair ; to-day, basking in the 
sunshine of prosperity, — to-morrow, enveloped in 
the darkest clouds of adversity. The history of the 
church ! — what is it ? The history, — too often, — 
of weakness and error, nay, of crime ; the history of 
the excesses of human passions, of discord and 
strife, of bitter and endless disputes about the end- 
less dogmas of speculative theology. I would not 
be misunderstood, and I therefore add, that if such 
is too much the history of the church, such it must 
1 e, for these things are public and prominent. It is 
not the history of religion, but of false zeal, which 
is obtrusive and noisy and violent, breaking out into 
wars, and overturning empires, whilst religion is 
silently diffusing its blessings, secretly, but effec- 
tually, working on the human heart, and, in a mul- 
titude of instances, restraining those passions which 
it may not eradicate. "We hear the rushing of the 
tempest which levels the forest, and sweeps away 
the fruits of human labor, while the dews of heaven 
descend unnoticed by the common eye, though, by 



322 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 

their silent influence, they crown the harvest with 
plenty, and make ' the valleys to laugh and sing.' 

It is to man, thus weak and fallible, as history 
and experience prove him, that this ministry is com- 
mitted, — and how does it manifest wisdom and 
goodness? Is it not in the mysterious and inex- 
plicable Providence of God, that a treasure so 
precious is entrusted to a vessel so frail? Might it 
not have been expected that, to guard against mis- 
take and perversion on subjects in which our dear- 
est interests are involved, God himself would 
condescend to address us? "With what awful 
solemnity, what entire conviction, what deep im- 
pression, would not the instruction then come to the 
heart ! Who but would listen, believe, feel, obey ? 
God spake to the Israelites from Mount Sinai, and 
it was so dreadful that they entreated that the word 
should not be spoken to them any more. ' And 
they said with Moses, Speak thou to us, and we 
will hear, but let not God speak with us, lest we 
die.' And what was the effect of this scene so ter- 
rible ? When the awful scene had passed, and the 
sound of the voice no longer vibrated on the ears, — 
yes, even while Moses, at their request, was com- 
muning with God on their behalf, they relapsed 
into idolatry. 

But, if it were not suitable that God himself 
should instruct his creatures by ' a voice from 
heaven,' might he not have commissioned, for this 
work, those ministering spirits who surround his 
throne, and are employed on his errands of love 



THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 323 

and mercy ? Would not the ministry of angels 
have been more effectual than the ministry of 
men ? Let the text reply, — ' Who can have com- 
passion on the ignorant, and on them that are out 
of the way, for that he himself also is compassed 
with infirmity.' Elevated, as angels are, above 
the level of humanity, there would be no com- 
munity of feeling between angels and men. They 
might bear the message of peace and reconcili- 
ation, they might be convinced of its importance, 
from the declaration of Him whose word is truth ; 
they might speak with authority, — they might 
speak with power, — they might bring conviction 
to many minds ; but this would be all. The awe 
inspired by the presence of a celestial messenger, 
and the want of sympathy between that messen- 
ger and those to whom he was sent, would, in 
most instances at least, prevent the truth, which 
had found a reception in the understanding, from 
reaching the heart. Nor is this all. 1 Man is born 
to trouble.' How comparatively cold and ineffec- 
tual, in his affliction, would be the consolations of 
those who had never suffered ! And where could 
be the example of patient endurance, teaching, more 
effectually than the most soothing language of 
solace, the efficacy of religion to bind up the bro- 
ken heart ? 

The angel who appeared to Cornelius, did not 
preach the gospel to him, but directed him to send 
for Peter. The theme on which he was to address 
the centurion, was indeed a fitter theme for angel's 



324 



THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 



tongue, than for that of a mortal, but an angel 
could not speak experimentally as the apostle 
could, — consolations and hopes of the doctrines of 
religion he promulgated. 

It is here that the Son of God, who, having as- 
sumed our nature, had a ' fellow-feeling of our in- 
firmities,' is most attractive and interesting, and his 
example most useful to us ; it is when he descends 
to exhibit himself as partaking of the sensibilities 
and enduring the sorrows of humanity. Had we 
known only that Jesus was the Son of the Highest, 
that he had been subjected to contempt and igno- 
miny, to persecution and death, and that, in the 
midst of all that came upon him, he was patient 
and resigned, we might say ' He has indeed been 
apparently subjected to sufferings the most severe, 
but who can say that they were sufferings to him ? 
Had he the feelings of human nature ? Could he 
suffer like as we ? If not, there is no merit in bis 
resignation, no instruction in his example.' 

You discern already, my hearers, from what has 
been said, the wisdom and goodness of God in 
committing this ministry to men like yourselves, 
conscious of infirmities and sins, surrounded by 
temptations, oppressed with burdens, and having 
the same need of salvation as those to whom they 
minister. You discern an ability, which even 
angels would not possess, of penetrating the re- 
cesses of the human heart, and. touching the secret 
springs by which the actions of men are moved. 
The study of themselves is the study of human 



THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 325 

nature ; and if they know their own hearts, they 
know much better than angels could, how to gain 
access to the hearts of others. 

Possessed of the same nature, actuated by the 
same affections and passions, agitated by the same 
hopes and fears, liable to the same disasters, heirs 
of the same sorrows as their fellow-men, they can 
better suit then addresses, than angels could, to the 
various tempers, and varying humors, and changing 
circumstances of mankind. Acquainted with the 
capacity and province of the human understanding, 
its means of acquiring knowledge, and the obstacles 
to its acquisition, the best methods of communi- 
cating truth, and the hindrances to its reception ; ac- 
quainted, too, with the influence of the imagina- 
tion, — its tendency to extravagance, — and able to 
follow it in its discursive flights, they, better than 
superior intelligences, can restrain and guide the 
one, and inform and regulate the other. Conscious 
of the existence of a moral sense in man, and 
knowing something, from then* own convictions, of 
the power of conscience, they best can rouse it from 
its slumbering, and give it a voice and utterance 
which shall make the sinner tremble. Experimen- 
tally familiar with the difficulties and dangers of 
the Christian life, the struggles between the flesh 
and spirit, the conflict with the world and sin, the 
deceitfulness of the human heart, they can best 
portray these difficulties and dangers, best expose 
the machinery of the enemy, and best direct to the 
means of escape or victory. Susceptible, like 

vol. ii. 28 



326 THE /WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 

others, of joyful emotions from the occurrences of 
life, and dependent on these occurrences for much 
of their earthly happiness, they are better fitted by 
their nature and condition, than celestial beings, to 
take part in the happiness of others, and 'rejoice 
with them that rejoice.' Experiencing, as they 
often do, the depressing, disheartening influence 
of those infirmities to which the flesh is heir, and 
knowing, as they must sooner or later know, from 
their own sad experience, how profusely the heart 
will bleed when the closest ties are ruptured, when 
hopes, however fond, are blighted, and joys, how- 
ever dear, are withered, they best can sympathize 
with suffering. Feeling, as it must be supposed 
they do feel, the power of that religion which it is 
their honor and privilege to teach, and convinced of 
its efficacy in imparting strength to the sinking 
spirit, and pouring light upon the darkened mind, 
they can speak of this power and efficacy with an 
energy which experience only can give. Mortal 
themselves, and sometimes, if not often, in 'bon- 
dage by reason of death,' from a consciousness 
of their own imperfections and sins, they can 
have a closer, deeper sympathy, than immortal 
natures could have, with the sick and dying. 

Nor is it only in the benefit of their sympathy, 
and the adaptation of their instructions, example 
and prayers to the nature and conditions of those 
to whom they minister, that wisdom and goodness 
» are apparent, in the appointment of men to this 
important work. In their example, they can speak 



THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 



327 



with incalculably more effect than any other order 
of beings, to the hearts of their fellow-men. To 
the example of angels men could never look for in- 
struction in the duties and trials of life. It can only 
be to those who are frail and feeble and fallible like 
themselves. Such are ministers, — and, if they are 
humble in prosperity, and resigned in adversity, 
grateful for benefits, and forgetful of injuries, — if 
they are meek and patient, aftd benevolent, and de- 
vout, the transcript they exhibit of their doctrine, 
has a strong tendency to bring conviction to the 
mind of its truth and power and loveliness. 

I might go on, — but I should weary you. I have 
said enough, I trust, to convince you, if you needed 
the conviction, that in the ministry, as it is consti- 
tuted, the same wisdom and goodness are discern- 
ible as in all the other works of God. 

And is there no practical instruction to be gath- 
ered from this subject ? Christian Ministers ! 
there is instruction for you. Whilst you admonish 
others, there is a silent, yet most impressive, moni- 
tor teaching you in the nature which God has 
given you. Every infirmity of which you are con- 
scious, both of body and mind, — and alas! who 
can number them ? — is giving you a lesson of duty. 
Compassed with infirmity, sensible, as you must be, 
of weakness, and ignorance, and unworthiness, you 
are taught humility, meekness, forbearance, forgive- 
ness, and charity ; kindness, gentleness, sympathy 
and compassion ; zeal, diligence, watchfulness and 
prayer. Let it be manifest that you are not un- 



328 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 



fruitful hearers of this voice which speaks within 
you. Sad indeed would it be, — sad, did I say, — 
what term can I use to show forth its terribleness ? 
— if, with such strong and unceasing admonitions 
and motives to personal holiness and ministerial 
fidelity, you should be wanting in either, — if, after 
having preached to others, you should yourselves be 
rejected! Rejected! God of mercy, save us from 
a doom so terrible ! God of grace, give us grace to 
be faithful. 

Christian Hearers ! there is instruction for you. 
Be thankful that the ministry of the gospel is com- 
mitted to those who can have a fellow-feeling for 
your infirmities, sympathize with you in your joys 
and sorrows, warn you of yom* dangers, and de- 
scribe, from their own experience, the efficacy of the 
promises and hopes of your religion. You expect 
them, — and justly, — to be eminent for their piety ; 
but remember they are men, and, if you discover 
imperfections, blame them not for that nature which, 
in so many respects, is a just and strong recommen- 
dation. Be tender of their reputation, — it is your 
interest to be so. Be candid and charitable in your 
construction of their conduct, — you stand in need 
of this candor and charity yourselves, — and allow 
them to repose themselves on their characters, as a 
security from hasty reproach. They have many 
difficulties and trials in the discharge of their duties ; 
many which you know, and many which are known 
only to themselves. With them, as with you, the 
spirit is often willing when 4 the flesh is weak ; ' and 



THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 329 

when you seek an excuse for their apparent neglect 
of you, or the defects of their services, think of your 
own nature, and find it there. But, whilst I ask 
you to cover their imperfections with the mantle of 
charity, I would have no mantle so broad as to 
cover their wilful offences. ' Brethren, pray for us] 
that, remembering our frailty, we may labor with 
diligence; and pray for yourselves, also, that we 
may not labor in vain. 

It has not been my purpose, my brother, by what 
I have said, to add to the weight of those reflections 
which oppress your heart in the contemplation of 
the transactions of this day. It is true that you are 
compassed with infirmity, and it is also true that, 
with all this infirmity, you are about to be entrusted 
with a commission of inconceivable importance. 
But, if ' we have this treasure in earthen vessels,' it 
is ' that the excellency of the power may be of God, 
and not of man.' When you are ready, like the 
apostle, to exclaim, 1 Who is sufficient for these 
things ? ' may you receive, like that apostle, the 
strength that 4 is made perfect in weakness,' and, 
like him, too, ' glory in infirmities, that the power of 
Christ may rest upon you.' Go forth to this work 
'in the strength of the Lord, making mention of 
his righteousness, and his only.' Preach 'Jesus 
Christ, and him crucified.' My brother, we may 
differ in our interpretation of this charge. I know 
not whether you rely, as much as I do, upon the 
efficacy of that blood which was shed for our re- 
demption, though I would fain hope you do. 4 Hast 
28* 



330 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 



thou faith? Have it to thyself before God.' In 
your preaching be plain, direct, evangelical, earnest. 
Be not ashamed to have it manifest that your lips 
give utterance to the feelings of your heart. Re- 
member the aphorism of the ancient orator and 
critic, 4 If you would make me weep, weep your- 
self.' Let your soul go forth with a force which 
you cannot, — and would not if you could, — re- 
strain. Preach, yes, preach, in the houses of your 
people. Preach by the wayside. Watch for souls. 
May your whole life, — and for myself and my 
brethren I would breathe the same prayer, — be one 
labor of love, the overflowings of a soul fraught 
with love to God and man. 

And now, my brother, farewell. I commend you 
to God, and to the word of His grace, which is 
able to keep you from falling. My heart's desire 
and prayer to God for you is, that your ministry 
may be successful, and that, among this people 
especially, you may be the blessed instrument of 
4 bringing many sons and daughters to glory.' 



331 



SERMON XL Y. 



WELCOME TO A NATION'S BENEFACTOR. 

[Concluding part of a Sermon on the Visit of Lafayette, in 1824.] 
] KingS, i. 11. AND THE PEOPLE REJOICED WITH GREAT JOT. 

During the past week, we have witnessed an 
event which is unparalleled in the history of nations. 
The excitement it occasioned has not yet subsided. 
"We cannot fail to bring it with us to this sacred 
place. It mingles itself with our holy services. 

The recital of a page from our nation's history 
will illustrate these positions. 

A people, few in number, and with scanty re- 
sources, are compelled to contend with a powerful 
nation, for their rights and privileges. 

At the moment of their greatest need, when their 
cause is almost hopeless, there appears among them 
a youthful hero, who, by his presence and the succor 
he brings, revives their drooping spirits, and inspires 
them anew with courage and ardor. He stakes his 
life and fortune for their cause. 

The work accomplished, and the blessing of God 
having crowned with success the courage, resolu- 



332 WELCOME TO A NATION'S BENEFACTOR. 

tion and perseverance of the infant nation thus 
contending for its liberty and independence, he 
disappears. 

A new generation comes into life; attains to 
maturity ; advances towards old age. 

They have learned, in infancy, to lisp the name 
of the youthful stranger who, in the hour of their 
country's peril, came forth to help them. The story 
of his deeds has been their delight in childhood; 
and, when they have grown up, they have told it to 
their children, and their children's children. They 
have read of it, and thought of it, and spoken of 
it, as a thing long gone by. 

Nearly half a century elapses. This people who, 
when small and feeble, had struggled for their lib- 
erty, and achieved it, becomes a great and powerful 
nation. They spread themselves over a vast conti- 
nent, and two millions become ten. New States 
are formed. The wilderness blossoms. Cities arise 
in the midst of the desert. Learning and the arts 
flourish. Every thing bespeaks opulence, strength 
and greatness. 

There comes one from a distant land, to witness 
this prosperity, and rejoice in it. 

He is an old man. He is a stranger. His fea- 
tures are not recognized. Yet every heart beats 
high at his approach, and every tongue proclaims 
his welcome. 

And how is this ? "What is there in this stranger 
to make him an object of so much interest, that a 
whole nation opens wide its arms to receive him ; 



WELCOME TO A NATION'S BENEFACTOR. 333 

and, with one voice, pronounces a blessing on him ? 
What is there in this stranger, that every heart 
should thrill at his approach ; that lisping childhood, 
and hoary age, should unite to hail him ; should 
press forward, with equal eagerness, to gaze on him, 
and seize the hand that is extended to all ? 

This stranger is he of whom we have spoken; 
who, long since, in the days of our country's in- 
fancy, took up her cause, and pleaded for her with 
the powerful, and fought and bled in her defence. 

This stranger is he whom most of us from our 
earliest years, and some who are now becoming 
gray with age, have been taught to reverence and 
love ; of whose romantic attachment to liberty, and 
the just rights of mankind, whose wisdom, and skill, 
and valor, — even in early life, — we have read with 
grateful admiration and enthusiasm. 

This is he whom a great nation receives again 
into its bosom; the man whom, with one heart and 
one mind, we delight to honor. 

He remembered us in our feeble state, and we do 
not forget him now that we are exalted, and pros- 
perous, and happy. 

"Well may ' the people rejoice with great joy.' It 
is a joy which the omnipresent and omniscient 
Witness will approve. 

And the object of all this joy and congratulation 
is worthy of it. 

Had he come to us bearing on his forehead the 
mark of him who was a fugitive and wanderer in 
the earth ; had the winds, which bore him to our 



334 WELCOME TO A NATION'S BENEFACTOR. 



shores, been mingled with the groans and shrieks of 
the murdered victims of his ambition or cupidity ; 
or had he come with a reputation defaced and 
blackened by deeds of infamy; or with a body 
broken down and enfeebled by vice and dissolute- 
ness, there could have been no such joy. One 
burst, — I will not say of indignation, — but of 
deep regret and sorrow, would have met him on his 
coming. But it is not so. No. I emphatically 
say, It is not so. He comes to us bringing with 
him a reputation pure and spotless ; a character be- 
fore which, — w r ere there nothing else, — we might 
well be constrained to bow with reverence. In 
scenes the most perplexing; amidst horrors the 
most appalling ; in the court of a king ; at the 
head of armies ; in tumultuous assemblies ; and in 
the recesses of a dungeon ; he has held fast his in- 
tegrity, and maintained a consistency of conduct, I 
believe I may say unparalleled in the history of the 
scenes through which he has passed; and a firm 
adherence to principle, and to his high and noble 
purpose, which nothing could shake or turn aside. 

Distinguished by his patriotism, as well as his 
attachment to this land of his adoption, and emi- 
nent for his private virtues, as well as for his public 
services, we need not be ashamed to give distinct 
and emphatic utterance to our feelings, and to bid 
him welcome with all the enthusiasm that is due to 
a great and good benefactor. 

I repeat it, our joy and our gratitude are sanc- 
tioned by religion, and are acceptable to God. Tt 



WELCOME TO A NATION'S BENEFACTOR. 335 

was He who implanted the feelings which prompt 
to joy and gratitude ; and who rendered him who is 
the object of them an instmment of so much good 
to us. 

My friends, we are Christians ; in a Christian 
church, and assembled for the purpose of Christian 
worship. It w^ould ill become us to celebrate an 
earthly benefactor, and pay no tribute to that great 
Deliverer who came from heaven to free us from 
the bondage of sin, and the power of the grave, and 
to translate us into ' the glorious liberty of the sons 
of God.' 

Whilst on the tablet of memory we inscribe the 
deeds of those to whom, under God, our country 
owes its freedom, we should most deeply engrave 
there the benefits of Him without whose religion 
our freedom would not have been a blessing to us ; 
who, as the inspired messenger of 1 his Father and 
our Father, his God and our God,' — 4 God manifest 
in the flesh,' — has imparted the highest charm to 
existence here, and the only assurance of happiness 
hereafter. 

To Him, be glory in his church forever. Amen ! 



336 



SERMON XLVI. 



HOSPITALITY AND COMPASSION TO EMIGRANT FUGI- 
TIVES FROM OPPRESSION * 

[Concluding part of a Sermon preached when a collection was taken up for the 
relief of Polish fugitives ] 

Matthew xxv. 35. — i was a stranger, and ye took me in. 

I have thus shown you, my hearers, that the 
characteristic of our religion is benevolence ; that 
benevolent spirits heralded its advent with a procla- 
mation of ' good will toward men ; ' that He who 
came to teach it was full of this spirit of love ; that 
to do good was the business of his life ; that wher- 
ever he went, his footsteps were marked by kindness 
and mercy ; that as he lived, he taught ; and, himself 
a personification of God's love, so his doctrine was 
love ; his precepts love. 



* This sermon was preached some time since, but exhortations to 
hospitality and compassion are seasonable in all times. Refugees 
from oppression may often come to us for protection and succor. 
They should never fail to find it, let them come from whence they 
may. The directions of Scripture respecting one class of fugitives 
will be found in Deuteronomy xxiii. 15, 16. 



HOSPITALITY AND COMPASSION, ETC. 337 

I have told you that his disciples took their lesson 
from him, and went forth to teach and practise it ; 
that they, too, declared that love was the fulfilling 
of the law ; and remembering, repeated the words 
of the Lord Jesus, how he said, 1 It is better to give 
than to receive.' I have told you, further, that, set- 
ting aside what we find in the history of Judaism, 
not one trace or vestige has come down to us of 
compassion for the sick and the poor among the 
common orders of the people, which was sanctioned 
by the government, or the institutions, or general 
measures, of any ancient nation ; that the world is 
indebted to the influence of Christianity for almost 
all that has since been done for the alleviation of 
human misery. 

We have received this religion, my hearers, as 
our birthright. It is happy for us if, with the name, 
we have received its spirit ; if we have embraced it 
with the full conviction of the understanding and 
the heart. 

An opportunity is now afforded us to exercise 
the benevolence which belongs to our religion ; 
which characterized its founder and its early dis- 
ciples. 

A people once free, and, from their position and 
their character, holding an important place among 
the nations ; but who, for a century, have been 
groaning under the yoke of bondage, have made a 
powerful, but ineffectual, effort to regain their free- 
dom. 

vol. ii. 29 



338 HOSPITALITY AND COMPASSION 

Their story has been briefly, but eloquently, told 
in the address which was read to you on the last 
Sabbath. 

The greater part of those who were most active 
in the cause of freedom have have been sent to 
Siberia ; a country whose name freezes the heart of 
sensibility by its association with cruelty, dreariness 
and misery. 

A remnant escaped, and, of these, a few have 
come, and are coming, to seek an asylum in this 
land of liberty. 

They come from their homes, not as travellers, 
to gratify an innocent and laudable curiosity ; not as 
voluntary emigrants, bringing with them their fam- 
ilies and the fruits of their former industry ; but as 
wanderers, exiles, miserable outcasts. 

Home, around which their sympathies, their affec- 
tions, and their hopes had clustered ; home, in the 
sound of which, however poor and humble, there is 
something so inexpressibly sweet to the ear, so dear 
to the heart, — alas, there is no home for them ! 

If they had families, where are they? It may 
be, that they have perished in the flames of their 
own dwellings ; or that their blood has moistened 
the soil which had been tilled for their subsistence ; 
or that they have been driven, in chains, to the 
wilds of Siberia, to drag out existence in wretched 
slavery. 

These fugitives, for whom I now plead, have 
come from their homes, friendless and penniless ; 
with heart-rending recollections of the past, and 
saddening uncertainties in the future. 



TO EMIGRANT FUGITIVES. 



339 



But they have come among those who can feel 
for their misfortunes, — their misery, — and will be 
prompt to relieve them. They have come among 
those who are enjoying the freedom which they 
had struggled in vain to recover ; who would have 
rejoiced in their success ; and deeply deplore their 
defeat. 

They have come among those who are blessed in 
the possession of kindred, and country, and home ; 
and who can feel for those who have no kindred, 
and country, and home ; to whom the wide world 
is a dwelling-place ; and that dwelling-place dreary 
and desolate. 

They have come, too, at a period peculiarly aus- 
picious to them ; when our country is about to 
celebrate the anniversary of its independence ; that 
independence for which some of the best lives of 
their country were jeoparded, and for which some 
of its richest blood was shed. 

They have come when we are bending with sor- 
row at the grave of one who, like them, a stranger, 
in the darkest hour of our country's peril, took up 
her cause and pleaded for her with the powerful, 
and fought and bled in her defence. 

It may well be that our joy for our freedom 
should be hallowed by our hospitality and kindness 
to those who have lost their liberty. 

It may well be that we should deem that the 
noblest monument we can erect to the memory of 
Lafayette and his associates in the work of free- 
dom, which is reared by the hand of charity ; and 



340 HOSPITALITY AND COMPASSION, ETC. 

that we should all be eager to bring our portion of 
the precious materials which compose it. 

4 I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN.' It is the 

Saviour ; He who came to deliver us from the most 
wretched bondage, — the bondage of sin, who thus 
speaks. 

There is a powerful appeal to us in the language 
of the committee to whom it has been entrusted to 
solicit aid for these necessitous strangers. There is 
a powerful appeal in the recollection of the cause 
in which they are suffering ; and of the sympathy 
and aid we received from their fathers in the dark- 
est hour of our country's fortunes. There is a 
powerful appeal in the horrors they have endured, 
and in the state of entire destitution in which they 
have come to us. But to the Christian there is a 
still more powerful appeal in the admonition of 
the Saviour, and in the recollection that, by our 
compassion to the miserable, we testify our affec- 
tion to Him. 

He dwells no longer in this troubled scene. He 
has gone to take possession of his kingdom, and is 
exalted far above the reach of all those sufferings 
and sorrows which embitter the life of man. But 
the afflicted, the poor, you have always with you. 
They are the brethren of Jesus, and this is the lan- 
guage in which He recommends them to your benefi- 
cence. 4 Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye 
do it unto the least of one of these my breth- 
ren, YE DO IT UNTO ME.' 



341 



SERMON XLVII. 



JERUSALEM. 
Lamentations, i. 1. — how doth the city sit solitary that was 

FULL OF PEOPLE! HOW HAS SHE BECOME A WIDOW ! SHE THAT 
WAS GREAT AMONG THE NATIONS, AND PRINCESS AMONG TME PRO- 
VINCES, HOW HAS SHE BECOME TRIBUTARY ! 

Such was the exclamation of the prophet, as he 
looked upon the capital of his country, a prey to its 
enemies, and beheld, in prophetic vision, its future 
destiny, when the denunciations of the Almighty 
were still further fulfilled, and the devoted city, 
having filled up the measure of its iniquities, was 
reaping their bitter fruit. 

Such must be the language of every Hebrew 
pilgrim, when he visits the land of his father's sepul- 
chres, and comes first in view of the venerated 
place which the prophet had once described as ' the 
perfection of beauty.' 

It is impossible that any language can be more 
appropriate to its present condition ; any delinea- 
tion more just; any imagery more vivid, than is 
29* 



342 



JERUSALEM. 



contained in these few words, ' How doth the city 
sit solitary ! ' It sits alone ; amidst a scene of de- 
solation of which no adequate idea can be present- 
ed to the mind of one who has not beheld it. 

It has been permitted me to look on that scene. 
The visions of childhood, the fond, but faint, anti- 
cipations of mature life, have been realized. 

I have seen Jerusalem, and all the hallowed spots 
around it; and, as I remembered what eyes had 
gazed on that scene, what feet had trod that sacred 
soil, what lips had uttered there the words of peace 
and consolation, how was I overpowered by the 
emotions ! What a crowd of holy recollections 
thronged upon my mind ! 

We had visited the scenes most rich in classic 
and historic lore. I had, myself, been admitted a 
member of a learned society in Athens, at a meet- 
ing of that society, — its members sitting on the 
fallen pillars and capitals of the Parthenon, so dear 
to the memory of every scholar. The plain of Ma- 
rathon, the groves of Academus, the fields of Troy, 
Corinth, the Hellespont, Constantinople, ' Queen of 
the East,' Cyprus and -Rhodes, had passed under 
our view. 

We had been where the first of poets had sung, 
the most eloquent of orators declaimed, and the 
chief of the apostles revealed to the inquisitive 
Athenians, the knowledge of the only true God. 

We had stood in the forum at Rome ; in the 
Acropolis at Athens ; and, above all, on Mars 
hill. 



JERUSALEM. 



343 



But what was all this to the scene on which we 
were now permitted to look ? 

' Those holy fields, 
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet, 
Which, eighteen hundred years ago, were nailed 
For our advantage to the bitter cross.' 

We entered Syria at Jaffa, the ancient Joppa, — 
whither Jonah £ fled from the presence of the Lord,' 
where Peter raised Dorcas to life, and, as he dwelt 
in the house of ' one Simon, by the sea-side,' saw 
the vision which taught him that God was ' no re- 
specter of persons,' and prepared him to open the 
door of salvation to the Gentile world. 

We passed by Lydda, where the same Peter, in 
the name of Jesus Christ, had restored health to 
Eneas who had been ' eight years a paralytic;' and 
over the plain of Sharon, once decorated, and, at 
certain seasons, now decorated, with a profusion of 
beautiful flowers, — an unenclosed, undulating plain, 
extending eastward to the ' mountains which stand 
round about Jerusalem,' — and northward to Carmel, 
whose ' excellency had departed,' for the curse de- 
nounced by the prophet had been fulfilled, and its 
< top ' had ' withered.' 

We tarried a night at Ramlah, the ancient Ari- 
mathea, the city of Joseph, in whose tomb was laid 
the body of our Lord ; and which is probably the 
birth-place and burial place of Samuel, where he 
anointed Saul to be the first king of Israel. 

We traversed the mountainous country, so sim- 



344 



JERUSALEM. 



ply described in the gospels as 1 the hill country of 
Judea,' where the mother of our Lord went to 
salute her cousin Elizabeth. 

A ruthless and continuous tyranny of eighteen 
centuries had passed its withering hand over these 
gardens of Ephraim, and all was sterile and deso- 
late. 

Notwithstanding, however, the present sterility, 
there are indubitable marks of ancient and exten- 
sive cultivation. The traces of terraces for vines 
are every where visible, reminding us of the denun- 
ciations of the prophet upon the £ drunkards of 
Ephraim,' so literally fulfilled, for 'the glorious 
beauty,' which was in ' the fat valley,' has indeed 
become a ' fading flower.' 

Passing along though a narrow defile, where only 
one person could pass at a time, and over a road, 
— if so it might be called, — filled with stones, and 
apparently the bed of a mountain torrent, we per- 
sued our wearisome way through as dreary and de- 
solate a country as can well be imagined. But we 
were heedless of dreariness and wearisomeness, for 
our thoughts were bent on the object we had 
travelled so many thousand miles to contemplate, 
and our eager eyes were strained to the utmost, if, 
haply, at every ascent that we reached, we might 
descry it. Again and again we were disappoint- 
ed. 

After several hours' travel, we entered an elevated 
plain, strewed, — I may say, covered — with loose 
rocks and stones, as far as the eye could reach ; 



JERUSALEM. 



345 



these rocks perforated on every side, as if they had 
been acted upon by some powerful element. 

Suddenly a line of Gothic walls, flanked by 
square towers, with minarets, and the tops of a 
few houses above them, appeared before us. 

It was Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ' sitting,' as I have 
said,. — as the prophet, many centuries ago, had 
said, — sitting ' solitary.' 

That graphic portraiture of its widowhood was 
indeed here found to be drawn to the very life. 

And was it indeed Jerusalem ? Jerusalem standing, 
— it may be, — where the city of Melchizedeck, who 
blessed Abraham, had stood; — Jerusalem, built by 
the grandson of Noah ; taken by Joshua as the chief 
place of the promised land ; where 4 David fixed his 
royal throne ; ' where was Mount Zion ; and the 
temple of Solomon, ' the wonder of the world ; ' 
above all, where, two thousand years after its erec- 
tion, a i greater than Solomon ' appeared, and that 
fearful tragedy was enacted which brought swift 
destruction on its actors, but pardon, and peace, and 
life, and immortality to the penitent, throughout the 
world. 

1 His blood be upon us and our children,' was the 
imprecation of the deluded Jews, and how fearfully 
was it fulfilled! Before that generation had passed 
away, — as the Saviour foretold, — Jerusalem was 
a heap of ruins, and, of its proud temple, ' not one 
stone was left upon another.' 

The present walls of the city were built by the 
Turkish Sultan Solyman, about three hundred years 
ago. 



346 



JERUSALEM. 



Near the gate of entrance on the Jaffa side, is a 
cave, in which the prophet is said to have written 
the book from which the words of my text are taken, 
and, not far off is the 4 upper pool of Gihon,' where 
Solomon was anointed king, by Zadoc the high 
priest ; and, on the way to which, 4 near the Fuller's 
field,' the prophet met Ahaz. 

We could identify the ' Fuller's field,' — still so 
called, — and we almost thought, that, with our guide- 
book, the Bible, we could identify the very spot on 
which the prophet delivered his message to the 
king. 

Every where, indeed, in the East, we had striking, 
and often beautiful illustrations of Scripture. How 
often have we seen the shepherd leading- his flock, 
as the 4 good Shepherd,' is said to have done! He 
still 4 calleth them all by their name,' as in ancient 
time, and 4 they know his voice, but the voice of a 
stranger they do not know.' 

How often have we seen the 4 two women grind- 
ing at the mill ! ' How often have 4 the maidens at 
the well by the wayside,' whither they had gone 4 to 
draw water,' taken down the pitcher 4 from their 
shoulder ' to 4 give us drink ! ' 

On the same side of the city with the Jaffa gate, 
a deep ravine still bears the name of 4 the Valley of 
Hinnom,' where the idolatrous Hebrews offered 
sacrifice to false gods, and where a perpetual fire 
was kept up which destroyed every thing that was 
thrown into it. 

A little beyond is the 4 Potter's field,' which was 



JERUSALEM. 



347 



purchased with the price of the Saviour's blood;' 
and in which are many tombs, some of which, — 
as is usual in Syria and Egypt, — furnished dwell- 
ing-places for the poor inhabitants. 

It was on Saturday, the third of August, 1839, 
that we entered the city ; and, if we had respond- 
ed to the prophet's exclamation, ' How doth the 
city sit solitary ! ' when we approached it and 
stood at its gates, how much more ready were we 
now to exclaim, with the same prophet, 4 Is this the 
city that men called the perfection of beauty?' 
The streets were narrow, crooked, uneven, filthy; 
the pavement, — where there was one, — broken. 
The plague, — though, in most places, it does not 
exist in the extreme heat of summer, or the extreme 
cold of winter, — was still committing its ravages 
here. 

The Sepulchre of Christ, Calvary, and the rock 
rent by the earthquake, — so tradition designates 
them, — are all contained within the walls of a 
church, originally built over them by the Empress 
Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great ; 
whose ill-guided superstition has done not a little 
to baffle the curiosity of the Christian traveller. 

On entering, you find the Turkish and Arab sol- 
diers, who guard the church, seated smoking, and 
drinking coffee. 

Before you, is a large marble slab, over which are 
suspended lamps, or lanterns, one burning; and on 
this slab, — as you are told, — the body of Jesus 
was laid, to be anointed and embalmed, previous 
to its interment. 



348 



JERUSALEM. 



On the left, at a little distance, is a small oblong 
building, immediately under the dome. 

You enter it by a low door, and observe in the 
centre of a small, square room, a block of polished 
marble, on which, it is said, the angel sat who 
announced the glad tidings of the resurrection to 
the two Marys. Near to this is another door, 
through which, stooping, you enter a second apart- 
ment, about large enough to contain three or four 
persons. In a recess, is a sarcophagus of white mar- 
ble. It is without ornament, and covers the place, 
where, according to tradition, — and, I am inclined 
to believe, according to fact, — ' the Lord was laid.' 

There are seven lamps constantly burning over 
it ; and a coarse painting, and some pots of artificial 
flowers, are ranged on a shelf above it. 

On leaving this apartment, you ascend about 
twenty steps, to the place of the crucifixion. Here 
are shown the holes in which the crosses of the 
Saviour, and the two malefactors who were cruci- 
fied with him, were fixed in the ground, and, not far 
from this, the rent in the rock. 

, It would be well if it stopped here ; but you 
have the place pointed out where Jesus appeared to 
Mary Magdalene, and that where the centurion 
went to weep after the crucifixion ; and even 
where the cock crowed, reminding Peter of the 
Saviour's words, ' Before the cock crow, thou shalt 
deny me thrice.' I hint at these few things as a 
specimen of the absurd stories which are told by 
the priests who conduct visitants, and the conse- 



JERUSALEM. 



349 



quent air of doubt which is thrown over objects the 
most interesting. 

It is a relief to turn to other scenes, on which 
the rnind may repose itself with confidence and 
delight. The face of nature still endures. The 
rocks, the mountains, the valleys are there. Mount 
Zion, Gethsemane, and Olivet are there. 

On the day after our arrival, we went out to the 
Mount of Olives. 

We passed, on Mount Moriah, near to the 
mosque of Omar, which stands, as is doubtless 
erroneously said, on the site of the ancient temple ; 
and by the pool of Bethesda, a reservoir about one 
hundred and forty feet long, and forty wide ; dry, 
and half filled up. Here the lambs, destined for 
sacrifice, were washed ; and it was on the brink of 
this pool that Christ said to the paralytic, ' Rise, 
take up thy bed and walk.' 

Leaving the city by St. Stephen's gate, through 
which this proto-martyr is said to have been led to 
be stoned, we descended the mount, or hill, on which 
Jerusalem stands, to the bridge which crosses the 
brook Kedron, then dry, but, in winter, a mountain 
torrent pursuing its way through the valley of 
Jehoshaphat, to the Dead Sea. 

On this side of the Mount, is the fountain of 
Siloam, which i flowed fast by the oracle of God ; ' 
and to which you descend into the hill itself by a 
number of steps. Not far off, is the pool of Siloam, 
with which the fountain has connection through 
the hill, — to which our Saviour sent the blind man 

VOL. II. SO 



350 



JERUSALEM. 



to wash and be healed, and which is supposed by the 
natives, to possess virtue in healing diseases of the 
eyes. It is a small pool of transparent water, 
stoned, and a stream issues from it, which descends 
the hill into a reservoir at its foot. 

Crossing the brook Kedron, we came to a piece 
of ground enclosed by a stone wall, — partly dilap- 
idated, containing eight olive-trees, apparently of 
great age. This was the Garden of Gethsemane. 
So tradition has, I believe, uniformly testified. And 
it may really be so. It is certainly on the Mount of 
Olives, whither Jesus was wont to resort with his 
disciples, and, therefore, has doubtless been hallowed 
by the footsteps of the Redeemer. It may be that 
he has knelt and prayed there to ' his Father and 
our Father.' It may be that he there endured his 
agony, and manifested a submission as unparalleled 
as his sufferings. 

It was, in that quarter of the world, the first 
Sabbath of the month, and my thoughts were with 
those, — far off, — who are accustomed on the first 
Sabbath of the month, especially to meditate on 
the sufferings and death of the Saviour. 

I would fain have spoken to them then, in lan- 
guage such as Gethsemane would inspire. Or 
rather, I would fain have had them with me, to 
listen to the voiceless teachers whose silent elo- 
quence would reach the heart in tones of deeper, 
more thrilling interest, than words could utter. 

The scene has vanished. — Gethsemane and the 
Mount of Olives are far away. Jerusalem, in its 
widowed, solitary state, is no longer before me. 



JERUSALEM. 



351 



But I hear those voiceless teachers still. They 
speak of sufferings endured for me, for you ; — of the 
unequalled agony, and propitiatory death of Jesus. 
Every day may we remember him, and may the 
remembrance constrain us to live to him, who lived 
and died for us. 

"With Jerusalem, the ruins of Balbec, near the 
foot of Mount Lebanon, and the beautiful city of 
Damascus, ended our journey to Palestine and 
Syria ; and with the ruins of Thebes, the tombs of 
Sesostris and the Pharoahs, and the Red Sea, our 
visit to Egypt, and the East. 

We returned to Europe through the Adriatic, — 
passing the island immortalized by the shipwreck 
of St. Paul, — to Trieste, to Vienna and Venice ; 
then through Italy to France, and from France again 
to England. 

We were absent from Paris two years, and, in 
this extended journey through the north and south 
of Europe, in Asia and Africa, — of many thou- 
sand miles, — no obstacle, of any importance, op- 
posed our progress ; no accident occurred ; no insult 
was offered us ; not an unkind word is remembered 
as spoken to us. As we proceeded, the anticipated 
' lions ' fled at our approach ; the mountains be- 
came plains, ' and the rough places smooth.' 

We had been in the midst of the plague in the 
Holy City. We were unarmed, with the wild Arabs 
of the desert in the deep glens ; on the rocky, precipi- 



352 



JERUSALEM. 



tous cliffs ; on the high mountains, and on the solitary 
plains. They have guarded and guided us ; they 
have carried us in their arms where it was dan- 
gerous or difficult for us to trust ourselves ; receiving 
only a kind recognition of their services, and such 
pecuniary compensation as we thought proper to 
give them. I have, myself, slept on the sandy 
desert plain, of many miles extent, with no resting- 
place but the sand, no canopy but the starry 
heavens, and no one near me but the Egyptian 
muleteer who was conducting me between Cairo 
and the Red Sea. 

But we remembered who had said 4 Fear not, I 
am with thee ; ' and, 4 trusting under his wing,' we 
were not ' afraid of the terror by night, or the 
arrow that flieth by day,' of < the pestilence that 
walketh in darkness, or the destruction that wasteth 
at noonday.' We trusted in Him, and were de- 
livered. We trusted in Him, and are here, to 
' think of his loving-kindness,' — as we do this 
day, — ' in the midst of the temple.' 

£ Bless the Lord, O our souls, and all that is 

WITHIN US, BLESS HlS HOLY NAME ! BLESS THE LoRD, 
O OUR SOULS, AND FORGET NOT ALL HlS BENEFITS ! ' 

Amen and Amen. 



353 



NOTES 

TO THE SERMON ON JERUSALEM AND SYRIA. 

On our way from Ramlah to Jerusalem, we passed through the 
valley of Elah, — a beautiful valley, — that is designated as the 
place in which Saul defeated the Philistines. We crossed a stream, 
which, as it runs through the valley, is naturally enough supposed 
to be the brook from which David took the ' five smooth stones' with 
which he smote the Philistine champion. 

In Jerusalem, and probably in other cities in the East, there is a 
small gate called the ' Needle's Eye,' at the side of each of the large 
gates of the city ; through which pedestrians go in and out. The 
camels, with their burthens, are driven through the large gate, but 
cannot go through the small gate without being stripped of their 
burdens. Is there not an allusion to this in the proverbial saying, 
which is used by our Saviour in reference to a rich man who trusts 
in his riches, entering into the kingdom of heaven ? 

The houses in Palestine, and the East generally, have flat roofs, 
on which the occupants of the houses are accustomed to sleep, with 
stairs often, if not always, on the outside of the house, so that, in 
descending to the street, it is not necessary to go through the house. 
"We have here an explanation of our Saviour's injunction, Matthew 
xxiv. 17. 

The thermometer (Fahrenheit) at Jerusalem, August 4th, 1839, 
at 6 o'clock, A. M. was 68°. On the 5th, at the same hour, 63°. 
On the 7th, at 7 o'clock, A. M. 63°. It was probably considerably 
higher some part of the day. On the day before we reached Jeru- 
salem, it was 90° in the course of the day. 

An accident befel the thermometer, which rendered it useless dur- 
ing the remainder of our journey in the East. 
30* 



354 



NOTES. 



Near to Bethlehem, which is about six miles from Jerusalem, is a 
small Turkish building, that is said to cover the grave of Rachel, 
the wife of the patriarch Jacob. 

We discovered a large aperture in the back of the building, 
through which we entered, and found a conical heap of stones care- 
fully laid together and plastered; which, if not the monument itself, 
may occupy the place of the monument that the patriarch raised to 
the memory of his beloved wife. 

Its situation is, as described in Scripture, 'near to Ephrath, 
which is Bethlehem.' 

The Mahometans regard with great veneration, and preserve with 
great care, the graves of the patriarchs and prophets of the Old 
Testament, and of all Connected with them. The grave of the be- 
loved wife of Israel, the Israelites would, doubtless, have guarded 
with peculiar care. 

The idea that we might be standing on the spot where they ' buri- 
ed Rachel,' excited emotions which may, perhaps, be conceived, but 
which cannot be described. 

Bethlehem is still entitled to the designation of ' the least among the 
princes of Judah.' It is a small, inconsiderable place, remarkable 
chiefly for the poverty of its inhabitants, who are nearly all nominal 
Christians, and maintain themselves by the manufacture of beads, 
crucifixes, and other sacred symbols, which they work in mother-of- 
pearl, or the fruit of the dome palm. The latter, brought from 
Mecca, becomes as hard as ivory, and is dyed of various colors. 
They make some beads, also, of a coral called Jussuah, which is 
found in the Red Sea, and takes a brilliant color, though it is sel- 
dom found without flaws. 

The place designated by tradition as the place of the Saviour's 
birth, is enclosed in a church connected with a monastery of Fran- 
ciscans. You descend by a long, narrow subterranean passage, and 
come to a small chapel, where an altar marks the spot on which, 
— you are told, — was the nianger in which the Holy Infant was 
laid. 

There is much decoration and finery here, as there is in the other 
places supposed to be connected with the Saviour's life and death, 
and which serves not a little to interrupt the devout musings of the 
Christian visitant. 

The situation of Bethlehem is delightful. It stands on the brow 



NOTES. 



355 



of a hill, or precipice, overlooking a beautiful valley, in which are 
vineyards, olive-trees and fig-trees in great abundance. 

On our way to Bethlehem we visited the ' Pools of Solomon,' men- 
tioned in the Canticles or Song of Solomon. They are three in 
number, quadrangular, and on levels one above another. A little 
above the upper pool, is an arched vault, where the spring is that 
supplies the pools, and which is supposed to be the ' sealed fountain' 
which is figuratively used in the Canticles. 

Of Bethphage, which was about a mile from the top of the Mount 
of Olives, and which is mentioned Mark xi. 1, and Luke xxix. 19, 
there are no remains. 

Near to Bethany, the way to which is on the side of the Mount of 
Olives, you are shown what is traditionally called ' the grave of 
Lazarus.' You descend many steps into the side of the hill to a 
small room, or cellar, capable of holding three or four persons, in 
the floor of which is a trap-door opening into a vault about large 
enough to contain a single body. Here, it is said, the body of Laz- 
arus was laid. 

From the top of the Mount of Olives, the Dead Sea and the Valley 
of the Jordan are distinctly visible. 

At Jerusalem we received much attention from the English con- 
sul ; from Mr. Nicolaison, the English missionary to the Jews, and 
from Mr. Laneau, of South Carolina, the American missionary ; as 
we did afterwards from Mr. Thompson at Bey rout, and had previ- 
ously from our missionaries in Greece and Turkey. Our ministers, 
charge d'affaires, and consuls every where, were assiduous in show- 
ing us every civility and affording us every assistance in their power. 
The consuls who were foreigners, were, by no means, less attentive 
than our countrymen. Among them, Mr. Chasseau at Beyrout, 
Mr. Hoskear at Christiania in Norway, the consul at Ystad in Swe- 
den, Mr. Swartz at Vienna, Mr. Campbell at Genoa, and Mr. Oni- 
brosi at Florence, should be particularly mentioned. 

Damascus, which we visited on leaving the Holy City and its in- 
tensely interesting neighborhood, is one of the most ancient cities 
now in being. It existed in the time of Abraham. 

The view of it, as you approach it, is exceedingly beautiful. So 
it has been described by all travellers, ancient and modern, who 
have visited it, and so we found it. 



356 



NOTES. 



As it bursts suddenly upon you in turning round a high project- 
ing rock on the top of Mount Lebanon (Anti Libanus), nothing can 
exceed its beauty; extending along a rich, fertile valley occupied by 
gardens, for more than nine miles in extent, and three in breadth ; 
two or three rivers winding through it ; the trees in gardens of the 
city itself rising, mingled with minarets, above the city walls. 

The gardens of Damascus, with their fragrant trees, flowers, and 
their marble fountains, carried us back to the days of childhood, 
and brought up again to the imagination the enchanted scenes of the 
'Arabian Nights.' 

The prejudices against, — or as it might with more propriety be 
said, — the hatred of Christians, has been stronger at Damascus 
than in any other place in Syria. No Christian was allowed to enter 
the city except on foot. If he came to the gate riding, he must dis- 
mount and walk. On entering, he was treated with great contempt 
and rudeness, if he even escaped violence. But things have greatly 
changed. The prejudice is much ameliorated. We rode into the 
city on our mules, were received kindly, and remained there several 
days, passing constantly through the streets, and visiting the places 
the most interesting to us. 

We were informed that General Cass, when he visited Damascus, 
entered the city on horseback, with his suite, and the American flag 
flying, and that the governor gave orders that all who were in the 
streets should rise as the procession passed, and make their obei- 
sance. 

There is a Roman Catholic monastery there,. where strangers are 
hospitably received, and lodged and boarded without any compensa- 
tion but what is gratuitous. There are also two or three boarding 
^houses. Our attentive and excellent friend, Mr. Chasseau, the 
American consul at Beyrout, had given us a letter to the French 
consul at Damascus, who was very attentive, and furnished us with 
not a little information. 

At Balbec, the ancient Heliopolis, or City of the Sun, described 
by the Arabians as the 'Wonder of Syria,' about fifty miles from 
Damascus, whose ruins (Balbec), though less extensive than those 
of Palmyra, have more beauty in the detail, an interesting and beau- 
tiful incident occurred, illustrative of the kindness of the Arabs in 
Syria. 

We had pitched our tent on the bank of a small stream at the 



NOTES. 



357 



foot of the principal ' Ruin,' — the Temple of the Sun. After look- 
ing at the remains of this splendid structure, we went out to visit 
some other ruins in the village. On leaving the last of these, the 
writer recollected something that he wished to look at again, and 
requested his wife, who accompanied him, to stand still a moment, 
while he went back to do so. On his leaving her, she thought she 
would make her own way to the tent, but was soon at a loss, and 
stopped and looked round her. The door of a house opened and two 
Arab women came out. They approached her gently, one of them 
placing a hand upon one of her shoulders, and the other a hand upon 
the other shoulder, and smiling in her face as if to say 4 Do not be 
alarmed, we mean to do you a kindness and no harm,' they each 
took one of her arms and led her, with the utmost gentleness, to her 
tent. They had doubtless been watching our movements from a 
window in the hovel, had marked what was done, had seen her per- 
plexity, and, with the sagacity of women, had comprehended it, and 
came out to relieve her. 

They were women. Woman is the same kind, compassionate 
being. — the same ministering angel, — in civilized and in savage 
life. 

In the East, there is a species of locust-tree, which bears a kind 
of fruit that is sometimes eaten. Some have supposed this to 
have been the ' meat ' that was eaten by John the Baptist, but, as 
there appears to be but little nutriment in it, and as the locust of en- 
tomology (gryllus) is said to be a great delicacy when salted and 
dried, and to be gathered in great abundance by the Arabs, and laid 
up, dried, for winter provision, it was doubtless this insect which 
was the ' meat ' of John the Baptist in the wilderness. 

We found Egypt, to which we went on leaving Syria, 1 the basest 
of kingdoms,' as had long since been foretold of it ; suffering under 
the severest and most cruel exactions of ruthless tyranny. It seemed 
to us that every third person we met had been subjected to mutila- 
tion, inflicted either by themselves or their parents in their child- 
hood, to prevent their being torn from their homes to supply the 
armies of the tyrant. How imperious must be the cruel necessity 
which would impel a mother to mutilate her child ! But even this 
was often rendered unavailing by the ingenuity of their oppressor. 

Meheraet Ali had redeeming qualities, and deserves credit for 
some Avise and good deeds. He established a few manufactories, 



358 



NOTES. 



and two or three seminaries of learning, and he sent a number of 
young men to France to be educated in science and the arts. But 
he had European advisers about him (chiefly French) moie enlight- 
ened than himself, and he was exceedingly ambitious of a good 
reputation in Europe. 

The lives and hard earnings of his subjects, however, were con- 
stantly the prey of his cruelty and cupidity. 

One or two facts will illustrate this assertion. When the crop 
was ripe for reaping, the agent of the pasha made his appearance, 
and addressed the owner of it to this effect. ' You have a fine crop. 
The pasha has occasion for it, and will take it at its value. The 
tax is so much, (naming a sum probably to three quarters the worth 
of the whole,) here is an order upon the treasury at Cairo for the 
balance.' Cairo might be some hundred miles off. If the owner 
demurred, he would probably be threatened with the bastinado, if 
it were not indeed actually applied. The poor wretch sets off for 
Cairo ; but has hardly started, it may be, before he is seized by the 
emissaries of the pasha, robbed of his order, and carried off to the 
army. If he escapes this, and reaches Cairo, and presents his 
order, he is informed that there is no money for him at present ; 
the pasha wants the money to pay his army, but that he can take 
the order to the Jews, who will buy it of him and get the money 
when they can. The Jews are the agents of the pasha, and buy his 
order for a trifle. 

After wasting some time at Cairo, he starts for home again, and, 
if he escapes the fate before designed for him, returns empty. Such 
was the constant practice under Mehemet Ali in 1839. 

While we were at Alexandria, the Turkish fleet arrived, with 
a large sum in piastres on board. These were disposed of in 
Alexandria. The pasha immediately issued an order lowering the 
value of the piastre, and bought them in at the depreciated value. 
He then issued an order raising their value, and paid out his pias- 
tres at the increased value. 

Mehemet Ali was born in 1769, in Cavalle, a little port in Rou- 
malie, of poor parents. Under age, an orphan, he was adopted by 
an aga. His courage and quickness were remarkable. He married 
a rich widow, and acquired independence by commerce in tobacco. 
When the French invaded Egypt, the Porte levied troops to dispute 
this province with Bonaparte, and ordered three hundred men to 



NOTES. 



359 



be raised in the town in which Mehemet AH lived. He took an 
active part in levying them, assisted at the battle of Aboukir, dis- 
tinguished himself, and, ere long, received the command of one 
thousand men. 

He held this rank when the French evacuated Egypt. He was 
sent to fight the Mamelukes, whom he eventually exterminated. He 
supplanted the then pasha, who was unpopular, by the aid of the 
French consul, and soon threw off his allegiance to the Porte. 

It is stated in this discourse, that we were obliged to use great 
precaution in Jerusalem to avoid infection from the plague. It is 
by no means a settled point that the plague is contagious. Certain 
it is that we were constantly compromised in regard to it ; riding upon 
the mules, which animals often died of the disease, and being ofien 
lifted upon the mules by the muleteers, who had free intercourse 
with every one, and took no percaution to avoid infection. We were 
cautioned to avoid all contact in passing through the streets, even 
of our garments, with the passers-by, and we had an amusing in- 
stance of the similarity of the habits of childhood every where. The 
little girls would run up and pretend they intended to touch us, in 
order to frighten us. 

We were at Constantinople at the time of the death of the Sultan 
Mahmoud, and the proclamation of his successor, the present sultan, 
Abdul Medjed. The funeral of the old grand seigneur was con- 
ducted with a good deal of quiet and simplicity. His body was 
carried in a barge, richly decorated, accompanied by a procession of 
barges on the Bosphorus, to its last resting-place. 

The procession at the first public appearance of the new sultan, 
realized to us the pictures presented in eastern romance. 

The gorgeous apparel of the attendants on the sovereign, the 
splendid caparisons of their steeds, and the whole display of magnifi- 
cence and splendor, exceed description.* 

The sultan himself was on horseback. He wore a large plume 
(if so it may be called) of diamonds in his turban, but had much 
less finery about him than those who attended him. He appeared to 
be, as he was, a youth of sixteen ; thin, pale and effeminate, having 
spent his life, thus far, within the walls of the seraglio 

His father (degenerate disciple of Mohammed) died of delirium 
tremens. This assertion is made on undoubted authority. 



* It has happened to the writer to be present at the first public appearance of 
three sovereigns. Napoleon Jst, Victoria, and the present Sultan of Turkey. 



360 



NOTES. 



In Turkey and Egypt, and in Syria as well, the effect of commerce, 
and of the increased facility of international communication, has 
been to loosen the hold of Mussulmen upon the religion of the Prophet 
of Mecca ; and the time is hastening on when they will come into 
the household of the Christian faith. The late Sultan of Turkey has 
been thought not to have been unfriendly to such a consummation, 
and Mehemet Ali, the late Pasha of Egypt, has been suspected of a 
like predilection. The English and American missionaries are in- 
directly promoting the same event. 

In Turkey, the sultan adopted not a few customs of European 
nations ; among them, — as many of his subjects are said to have 
done, — the free use of intoxicating drinks. 

The introduction of the system of quarantine into Turkey, as it 
strikes at the root of fatalism, is a falling off from the Mohammedan 
faith. It was violently opposed by the people, and a mob of the 
populace, of whom not a few were women, attempted the destruction 
of the quarantine establishment when it was first opened. The gov- 
ernment, however, persevered, and it was fully established. 

Near the close of the discourse to which these notes are appended, 
I have alluded to our return through Italy and France. 

On leaving Egypt, we went through the Adriatic to Trieste, pass- 
ing the island which is immortalized by the shipwreck of Paul. It 
has been commonly supposed that Malta was the scene of this disaster 
but this has been clearly shown to be an error by the learned Bryant 
and others. Some years since, a British naval officer surveyed the 
harbor of Malta, and at once determined, from the description in the 
Acts, that this could not be the spot. Indeed, the narrative of Luke 
himself, places it in the Adriatic, which was the way to Rome, not 
in the Mediterranean, which was not the way. 

In Rome, on our introduction to the Pope, though he received us 
very kindly, he disclosed, perhaps involuntarily, the fact that Bos- 
ton was associated in his mind with the destruction of the Ursuline 
Convent. 

In the vestibule of one of the churches at Rome, there is a placard 
on the wall giving notice that, by a decree of Pope Gregory the Great, 
every person who says mass in that church shall have the power of 
releasing a soul from purgatory. The reason of this decree is affirmed 
to be this : Gregory was one day passing the church, before which 



NOTES. 



361 



was an image of the Virgin Mary. Being engaged in thought, the 
Pope passed without making obeisance to the image. He heard a 
voice calling him by name, and, on looking up whence it proceeded, 
he perceived the lips of the statue moving, and heard himself thus 
accosted : ' Gregory, do you know that you have passed the image of 
the Holy Mother, without paying homage to it ? ' Gregory imme- 
diately prostrated himself on the ground, and felt so honored that 
the Virgin Mother had condescended to address him, that he issued 
the decree given above. 

In Naples, the priests have in their possession a phial, which, as 
they affirm, contains the real blood of Januarius, a Roman Cath- 
olic saint, which they exhibit once a year j and which is liquid, or 
congealed, as the priests choose to have it. When it is not liquid, 
they say it portends calamity, otherwise, a blessing. While it re- 
mains congealed, the people are in a state of great excitement and 
distress. When the French had possession of Naples during the reign 
of Napoleon, the blood remained congealed, and the populace were 
so much excited, that there was much tumult and great danger of 
an insurrection against the French, whose presence, it was supposed, 
prevented the liquefication. The French General in command, sent 
a message to the priests, that if the blood was not liquefied in ten 
minutes after the message was received, he would take off all their 
heads. The effect was instantaneous. The blood was immediately 
exhibited to the people in a state of liquefication, and the tumult 
subsided. 

The Italian character has been much misrepresented. We were 
domesticated in Rome a number of months, and had frequent and 
familiar intercourse with respectable families, and nowhere have we 
seen more domestic affection or more propriety and delicacy of beha- 
vior than there. The writer, before his first visit to Italy, was 
assured by his friend, M. Coqueril, the eminent Protestant minister 
in France, who had resided long in Italy, that he would find the 
Italian character as above represented. In regard to their integrity 
and sense of honor, Mr. Hammatt, the American consul at Naples, 
stated that he had been engaged in business transactions there for a 
good many years, to a great amount, and that he had not lost a 
farthing by a bad debt. There is, undoubtedly, much dissoluteness 
and trickery here, as well as elsewhere, but much less than has been 
imputed to them. 

VOL. II. 31 



362 



NOTES. 



There is much scepticism in Italy, and even in Imperial Rome 
itself, at least among professional men and the higher classes, in 
regard to the Roman Catholic faith. This was communicated to us 
with a freedom which surprised us. 

In all the Italian states there is an ardent aspiration after political 
freedom, but little or no prospect, at present, at least, of their ob- 
taining it. The system of Austrian espionage is complete ; and 
Austrian bayonets are always at hand to put an end to any symptom 
of revolution. The sad indifference to their fate, both in Europe and 
America, damps the hope of any assistance from abroad. The fate 
of Hungary is too recent and too striking to give them much, if any, 
encouragement. The mildest government in Italy is the Tuscan, 
but there is as much desire for a change there as elsewhere. 

In France, every thing, with respect to religion, is unsettled. 
There is undoubtedly much scepticism, — certainly as it regards 
Popery, — but the French, as was stated by the eminent Protestant 
minister to whom I have before referred, are seeking a religion. 
France, I think, will become a Protestant country, though it may 
be long first, as only one thirtieth of its population are Protes- 
tants. The rest are nominally Roman Catholics ; but many are 
actually sceptics, or in a state of transition from Roman Catholicism 
to Protestantism. In the House of Peers there are sixteen Protestants, 
(1839). In the House of Assembly one twentieth are Protestants. 

No questions are ever asked in the elections, or appointments to 
office, respecting the religious belief. It was so, at least, in 1839. 
The policy of the present government of France is intolerant and 
persecuting. How far this may accelerate or retard the progress of 
Protestantism, remains to be seen. 



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